a, 


/ 

/    v/ 

^  - 


HER  LADYSHIP 


BY 

ROBERT  MCDONALD 


NEW  YORK 

FRANK  A.   MUNSEY 
1897 


COPYRIGHT,  l8g4 
BY 

FRANK  A.  MUNSEY 


The  retail  price  of  this  book  is  twenty  five  cents. 
This  is  the  price  at  which  it  should  be  bought  from  book- 
sellers ;  the  price  at  which  it  can  be  bought  direct  from 
the  publisher. 

FRANK  A.  MUNSEY. 


HER  LADYSHIP. 


i. 


road  which  wound  along  the  edge  of 
Lake  Michigan  was  like  a  baud  of  silver  by 
the  side  of  the  vivid  blue  of  the  inland  sea,  spark- 
ling under  the  October  sunshine. 

Walking  along  its  edge  were  just  the  two 
figures  that  a  clever  landscape  painter  would 
have  wanted  there.  Their  backs  were  turned 
to  the  sun,  which  made  a  halo  around  the  girl's 
golden  brown  hair  and  glorified  the  edges  of  her 
large  brown  hat.  Hair  and  hat  just  matched  her 
brown  eyes,  which  always  had  golden  flecks  in 
them,  sunshine  or  not.  Her  white  serge  dress 
was  too  light  for  the  crisp,  cold  day,  and  she  had  * 
put  around  her  shoulders  a  sealskin  cape  which 
huddled  her  neck,  and  threw  out  all  the  brilliant 
beauty  of  her  sparkling  face.  She  was  a  typical 
Yankee  maiden,  frank  and  free,  full  of  the  joy  of 
life. 

The  young  man  with  her  was  perhaps  ten 
year£  older,  but  they  were  years  you  were  glad 
he  had  had,  for  every  one  seemed  to  have  printed 
i 


2  HER  LADYSHIP. 

upon  his  face  a  new  intelligence.  He  was  slen- 
der, not  with  the  slenderness  of  the  stripling,  but 
with  the  slimness  of  the  working  man  who  has 
cast  aside  all  that  is  superfluous  in  his  body.  At 
thirty  he  was  fairly  started  on  the  great  race  of 
life,  and  he  would  have  impressed  even  the  most 
casual  observer,  at  the  moment,  as  having  left 
his  place  in  the  pushing  throng  to  try  to  persuade 
this  charming  girl  to  go  with  him.  And  she  was 
full  of  the  knowledge  of  his  errand,  and,  like  every 
real  woman  before  her,  was  determined  to  make 
the  task  as  difficult  as  possible.  It  is  only  when 
she  means  to  capitulate  in  the  end  that  a  woman 
takes  that  trouble. 

' '  Of  course  mamma  was  entirely  happy  at  the 
success  of  the  ball , ' '  she  was  saying. 

"  And  you?" 

"Oh,  of  course  I  was,  I  have  an  orderly  soul  ; 
I  like  everything  to  go  off  well,  and  mamma ' ' 

"Always  mamma's  social  aspirations  !  How 
about  your  own  ?  Are  you  going  to  be  a  society 
butterfly?" 

"  Out  of  the  chrysalis  of  a  Lodge  City  environ- 
ment. ?"  she  asked  quickly.  "I  suppose  you 
think  that  I  am  like  that  girl  in  Bret  Harte's 
poem,  who  went  from  Poverty  Flat." 

"  And  longed  to  get  back  to  it.  I  am  afraid, 

Alice "  his  voice  lingered  on  her  name.  The 

edges  of  her  ears  burned  at  the  obviousness  of 


HER   LADYSHIP.  3 

what  was  coming,  and  she  rushed  in  to  push  it 
aside. 

' '  If  you  are  going  to  say  that  you  are  afraid  I 
haven't  any  such  gay  memories  as  dancing  '  down 
the  middle  with  the  man  that  shot  Sandy  Mc- 
Gee,'  you  are  right.  Lodge  City,  or  what  we 
saw  of  it,  was  not  gay.  Mamma  kept  us  beauti- 
fully and  exclusively  apart  from  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  We  never  knew  anybody  there  but  you. ' ' 

' '  I  confess  to  being  far  from  gay  at  times,  but 
I  did  my  best.  Gaiety  never  was  my  strong  point, 
exactly. ' ' 

' '  It  is  mine.  I  love  to  be  gay.  I  love  to  have 
a  grand  new  house,  and  lots  of  parties,  and  tee- 
to-tum — for  a  while. ' ' 

For  an  instant  Batterman  hesitated,  and  thought 
himself  a  selfish  brute.  He  was  going  to  ask  her 
to  give  up  the  parties  and  the  tee-to-turnming, 
and  go  away  with  him.  He  believed  that  she 
would  do  it.  He  was  a  clever  man,  shrewd  at 
reading  faces,  and  he  would  have  been  a  stick  or 
a  stone  if  he  had  not  seen  how  this  girl's  counten- 
ance changed  and  glowed  at  his  approach.  But 
he  loved  her  with  a  tenderness  which  had  grown 
with  the  years.  He  had  first  known  her  as  a 
little  girl  living  on  the  hill  above  the  dump  of 
the  Gray  Colt  mine,  while  her  father  was  taking 
out  the  millions  which  had  made  him,  for  the 
moment  at  least,  the  richest  man  in  Chicago. 


4  HER  LADYSHIP. 

Battermau  was  the  engineer  who  had  developed 
the  mine  and  had  made  its  working  possible. 
He  had  lived  near  by,  and  had  been  almost  a 
member  of  the  Sanderson  family  in  those  early 
years.  When  the  ore  got  richer  and  richer,  Mrs. 
Sanderson  took  the  two  children — her  own 
daughter  and  her  husband's  daughter — to  Europe 
and  left  them  there.  She  was  too  wise  and  clever 
a  woman  to  stay  abroad  herself,  and  lose  touch 
with  Mr.  Sanderson's  daily  and  hourly  life. 

The  idea  of  a  European  education  has  a  little 
different  appearance  to  those  who  have  gone 
through  it  and  to  those  to  whom  it  is  a  mere 
fancy.  The  life  of  young  girls  living  with  a 
governess  is  much  the  same  in  whatever  part  of 
the  world  they  happen  to  be.  It  cannot  fail  to 
be  quieter  and  a  little  more  narrowing  in  a  Swiss 
village  than  in  a  Western  town.  Alice  Sanderson 
had  learned  to  speak  French  and  German,  and  to 
restrain  much  of  the  exuberance  that  her  step- 
mother still  allowed  her ;  but  gaiety  she  had  never 
known  in  her  life  until  now.  She  spoke  truly  in 
saying  that  she  loved  it,  but  there  was  something 
she  loved  a  great  deal  more,  and  that  was  the 
presence  of  her  father's  engineer,  Christopher 
Batterman.  The  happiness  of  having  him  near 
her  made  her  fairly  vibrate  with  the  joy  of  life, 
but  Battermau,  being  modest,  put  much  of  it  down 
to  her  delight  in  her  new  environment. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  5 

"  I  wonder  if,  when  I  go  back,  you  would  sit 
up  after  a  ball  to  write  me  a  letter,  as  that  girl 
in  the  poem  did,  and  tell  me  about  your  proposals 
on  the  stairs,  and — and  all  the  rest  of  it. ' ' 

She  was  new  enough  to  Bret  Harte's  poetry  to 
remember  that  ' '  all  the  rest  of  it "  was  the  assur- 
ance that  her  heart  was  out  there,  and  that  he 
had  struck  it.  She  wasn't  going  to  tell  him 
quite  that — yet.  She  found  this  playing  about 
the  subject  delightful.  She  had  always  loved 
Chris,  she  thought,  and  she  was  going  to  tell 
him  so — after  a  time. 

She  sighed  with  content  as  she  thought  of  it. 
It  was  so  sweet  and  natural  that  she  should  be  in 
love  with  Chris — be  going  to  marry  him,  some 
day  ;  Chris,  who  had  always  been  her  hero,  who 
was  bigger  and  braver  and  cleverer  than  anybody 
else.  He  was  the  one  ideal  she  had  ever  had. 
She  stole  a  glance  at  him  sidewise,  and  thought 
that  no  man  could  look  the  modern  girl's  hero 
more  completely.  There  was  nothing  of  the 
carpet  knight  about  Batterman. 

"Oh,  Connie  does  the  letter  writing,  doesn't 
she?" 

"  And  a  jolly  little  correspondent  she  is.  She 
tells  me  everything,  with  comments.  I  advise 
your  father  to  buy  a  society  paper  for  Connie 
when  she  gets  a  little  older.  She  can  fill  it  with 
entertaining  material." 


6  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"  I  am  afraid  she  will  fill  a  great  many  that 
belong  to  other  people.  She  is  a  restless  soul. ' ' 
But  she  spoke  a  little  coolly.  Connie  was  only 
fifteen,  but  at  fifteen,  she  remembered,  she  her- 
self had  been  in  love  with  Batterman.  She  was 
sorry  she  had  mentioned  her  sister's  name.  An- 
other girl's  name  had  no  place  just  now,  and  in  a 
way  it  had  broken  the  spell  which  the  day  had 
cast  around  them.  The  subject  was  being 
changed,  and  she  did  not  intend  that.  She  was 
fairly  holding  back  the  great  flood  of  things  she 
meant  to  say  when  that  little  barrier  that  still  lay 
between  them  had  been  crossed.  The  door  had 
been  half  open  so  many  times,  and  she  had 
snapped  it  shut  in  her  lover's  face ;  but  for  all 
that  she  wanted  him  to  take  it  by  assault.  She 
wanted  him  to  push  his  way  through.  He  must 
know  that  she,  the  real,  honest,  loving  Alice  San- 
derson, was  waiting  for  him  on  the  other  side. 
And  meanwhile  Batterman,  conscious  that  after 
all  he  was  a  selfish  man  who  wanted  to  take  this 
girl's  life  for  his  own,  hesitated  on  the  other  side, 
his  soul  filled  with  reverence  for  the  pure  white 
sanctuary  of  a  young  girl's  heart.  He  felt  that 
out  of  her  very  innocence  and  sweetness  she 
might  take  him  in  too  soon,  before  she  had  seen 
enough  of  the  world  she  loved  and  enjoyed  so 
much. 

But  when  youth  and  beauty  and  love  come  to- 


HER  LADYSHIP.  7 

gether,  prudence  and  philosophy  are  pushed  to 
the  wall.  Love  is  an  arrogant  god,  who  believes 
that  he  alone  should  rule  ;  and  when  he  is  the 
real  thing,  and  not  one  of  those  chubby  imita- 
tions which  belong  to  fans  and  tapestry,  and  to 
the  illustrations  of  society  verse,  he  generally  has 
his  way.  He  was  beginning  to  assert  himself 
now,  when  a  commotion  a  little  way  ahead  at- 
tracted the  two  young  people's  attention. 

A  horse  ran  out  through  the  iron  gateway  of 
one  of  the  handsomest  places,  and  began  plung- 
ing sidewise,  standing  on  his  hind  legs  until  it 
reared  almost  backward.  A  groom  followed 
and  tried  to  get  at  its  head,  but  the  rider, 
who  held  a  short  cane  in  his  hand,  called 
out  to  the  man  angrily,  and  he  drew  back.  Evi- 
dently the  horseman  wanted  to  conquer  his  own 
steed. 

"That's  that  wild  horse  of  Judge  Nelson's," 
Batterman  said.  "What  idiot  is  trying  to  ride 
it  in  afternoon  dress  with  a  cane  in  his  hand  ? 
He  ought  to  have  a  whip  and  a  pair  of  spurs,  and 
be  on  the  prairie. ' ' 

"  It's  Lord  Lurgan  !  "  Miss  Sanderson  said  ex- 
citedly. "It's  Lord  Lurgan  !  "  I  heard  him 
tell  Judge  Nelson  that  he  could  ride  anything, 
when  he  was  talking  about  the  horse.  They  say 
he  is  a  great  sportsman." 

"So  he  may  be,  but  he  ought  to  have  better 


8  HER  LADYSHIP. 

sense  than  to  try  to  ride  like  that.  Come  in 
here.  He  can't  manage  the  brute." 

Batterman  hurried  her  across  the  road  and  into 
the  nearest  gateway.  The  horse  was  plainly 
bolting,  but  its  rider,  a  rather  heavily  built,  florid 
faced  young  man,  had  a  set  expression  under  his 
tall  hat  which  made  it  seem  likely  that  he  would 
bring  his  steed  to  terms  sooner  or  later,  and  with- 
out leaving  its  back,  either. 

"By  Jove,  he  can  stick  on,  eh?"  Batterman 
exclaimed  in  admiration.  He  thought  the  man 
foolhard}*,  too  ready  to  "show  off,"  but  he 
was  ready  to  give  him  his  due.  The  drive 
seemed  to  be  almost  deserted  just  here  at  this 
hour,  and  he  was  going  to  tire  the  vicious  brute 
out.  Batterman,  accustomed  to  seeing  men  deal 
with  the  wildest  horses  in  the  world,  thought  of 
the  expression,  "  two  of  a  kind."  The  English- 
man and  the  horse  seemed  to  have  pretty  much 
the  same  disposition. 

Battermau  had  sought  shelter  for  Alice  in  the 
gates  of  a  fine  open  garden,  next  to  a  place  called 
"  The  Cedars,"  whose  driveway  wound  about  in 
an  eccentric  fashion  and  was  dark  with  the 
branches  of  the  heavy,  close  trees.  The  house 
belonged  to  some  old  ladies  who  had  lived  here 
long  before  Chicago  became  the  great  city  it  is, 
and  who  clung  to  many  of  their  old  fashioned 
ways.  One  of  these  was  to  allow  the  needles  of 


HER  LADYSHIP.  9 

the  trees  to  carpet  their  driveway,  making  it 
noiseless.  There  was  no  gate,  but  two  old  stone 
posts  which  guarded  the  way.  As  if  unconscious 
of  the  commotion  going  on  outside,  a  victoria 
swung  out  into  the  road  just  as  Lord  I,urgau 
dashed  along  on  the  infuriated  horse.  In  another 
second  there  would  have  been  a  collision,  but  the 
rider  gave  a  mighty  tug  to  the  bridle,  and  changed 
the  direction  in  which  his  steed  was  going,  with 
safety  to  the  lady  in  the  low  victoria  but  disaster 
to  himself,  for  the  horse  did  not  stop.  There 
were  hoarse  shouts  from  the  men,  a  cry  from  the 
lady  in  the  carriage,  and  Alice,  sickened,  put  her 
hands  over  her  eyes,  while  Batterman  made  a 
dash  for  the  wall,  whose  sheer  side  dropped 
down  to  the  lake.  The  horse  and  rider  had  dis- 
appeared. 

Men  seemed  to  gather  like  flies  from  every- 
where, all  of  them  either  climbing  the  wall  or 
standing  on  it.  Alice  started  toward  it,  when 
she  heard  a  voice  calling  her,  and  turned  to  see 
her  stepmother,  with  a  white  face,  still  sitting  in 
the  victoria.  The  footman  had  followed  the  rest 
of  the  men. 

' '  Did  you  see  it  ?  What  will  your  father  say  ? 
Oh,  that  brave  man  !  He  fell  over  the  wall  to 
keep  from  running  into  me.  I  thought  it  was 
death.  That  great  black  brute's  eyes  were  like 
red  coals.  He  looked  like  a  demon  ! ' '  She  had 


10  HER  LADYSHIP. 

her  handkerchief  to  her  mouth,  and  her  eyes  were 
stained,  but  her  hand  was  not  trembling.  "  If 
he  is  killed  I  can  never  forgive  myself  for  coming 
out  today.  I  shall  feel  like  a  murderess.  I 
wonder  if  he  is  killed  !  " 

A  shout  answered  her.  There  was  a  little  rise 
here,  and  the  wall,  not  very  high  anywhere,  was 
much  lower  a  few  rods  down.  The  footman  came 
back  and  touched  his  hat. 

"He's  only  a  bit  shook  up,  ma'am.  There 
was  a  bit  of  sand  below,  and  they  ain't  wet  to 
speak  of. ' ' 

In  a  few  minutes  Battermau  came  back  sup- 
porting the  rider,  his  hat  not  so  fresh  as  it  had 
been,  but  still  on  his  head.  He  was  liuipiug 
painfully,  with  a  sprained  knee.  Mrs.  Sander- 
son's victoria  was  drawn  up  beside  him. 

' '  You  must  come  home  with  me,  I^ord  Lur- 
gan,"  she  said  quickly,  for  Judge  Nelson,  large 
and  pompous,  was  coming  down  the  road.  "  Mr. 
Sanderson  must  thank  you  himself  for  what  you 

have  done  for ' '  She  put  her  handkerchief 

to  her  lips  again. 

4 '  I  suspect  Judge  Nelson ' ' 

4 '  I  think  we  have  the  first  claim  to  give  you 
the  attention  you  could  not  have  at  your  hotel." 

Lurgan  smiled  a  little  uneasily,  and  then  he 
looked  at  the  grave,  respectful  face  of  Alice 
Sanderson,  who  stood  by  the  victoria's  side. 


HER   LADYSHIP.  II 

"  But  I  should  be  taking  Miss  Sanderson's 
place  in  the  carriage. ' ' 

"Oh,  no,  I  was  walking,"  she  said  promptly. 

Judge  Nelson  came  up,  loud  with  self  re- 
proaches, but  Lurgan  was  installed  against  the 
high  backed  seat  of  the  carriage  by  this  time, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  was  being  whirled  toward 
the  new  Sanderson  palace.  Batterman  watched 
them  drive  away  with  some  of  the  amusement 
with  which  he  had  always  regarded  Mrs.  Sander- 
son and  her  "luck,"  and  turned  to  find  Alice 
with  a  serious  face. 

' '  That  was  a  brave  thing  to  do, ' '  she  said. 
"  He  saved  mamma's  life." 

' '  By  almost  riding  an  unbroken  horse  over 
her?" 

"  That  isn't  like  you.  You  are  generally  more 
generous. ' ' 

"Am  I  ungenerous?  I  would  not  be  that. 
The  man  seems  to  be  courageous  enough,  but  a 
trifle  foolhardy.  Probably  he  did  not  know  the 
real  character  of  the  brute  he  attempted  to  ride. 
Nelson  was  responsible  for  that.  The  horse 
should  never  be  put  on  a  public  road  like  this. ' ' 
The  thread  of  their  old  talk  was  gone.  ' '  How 
long  have  you  known  I/)rd  Lurgan  ? ' ' 

' '  A  month.  He  brought  some  letters  of  in- 
troduction to  papa.  We  all  like  him  very  much. 
He  is  rather  like  a  big  boy  in  some  ways.  His 


12  HER  LADYSHIP. 

people  are  very  great,  they  say,  but  he  never 
mentions  that."  Batterman  smiled  again  at  the 
girlish  idea  that  such  reticence  was  remarkable. 
' '  He  is  so  solid  and  fresh  looking,  and  he  has 
done  all  sorts  of  things — shot  elephants  and 
tigers  and  grizzly  bears." 

"The  grizzly  bears  should  not  affect  a  girl 
from  Lodge  City. ' ' 

' '  It  sounds  great,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

She  laughed  up  in  his  face  with  the  sense  of 
humor  that  was  one  of  her  greatest  charms  to 
Batterman.  He  was  on  the  point  of  telling  her 
so,  but  they  were  almost  at  the  house,  and  the 
atmosphere  was  wanting.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
Alice  hastened  her  steps,  and  he  had  a  vague, 
undefined  jealousy  of  the  man  who  was  then  in 
her  home,  and  who  would  probably  stay  for  weeks. 
He  would  have  thought  it  insulting  to  doubt 
Alice.  He  felt  absolutely  sure  of  her  love  for 
him — a  love  he  so  much  respected  that  he  wished 
her  to  have  all  that  girlhood  could  give  her  be- 
fore she  realized  the  full  force  of  it,  and  the  dom- 
inating factor  that  it  would  be  in  her  life  when 
it  was  once  confessed.  But  he  did  not  want  an- 
other man  to  live  in  the  same  house  with  her,  and 
learn  to  know  her  sweet  ways  as  he  knew  them, 
and  perhaps  to  care  for  her.  He  pretended  to 
himself  that  there  had  been  no  meaning  in 
the  look  he  had  caught  in  Lurgan's  eye  as  it 


HER   LADYSHIP.  13 

rested  upon  Alice  before  he  accepted  Mrs.  San- 
derson's invitation. 

They  went  up  the  driveway  and  through  the 
great  front  door  into  the  hall,  which  had  been 
copied  after  that  of  some  renaissance  palace,  and 
contained  a  number  of  treasures  culled  from 
ruined  homes  abroad.  As  they  proceeded  across 
it,  a  clatter  of  girl  and  dog  was  heard  coming 
down  the  broad  staircase  and  almost  into  Batter- 
man's  arms. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Christopher  !  "  she  cried.  "  We've 
got  the  live  lord  in  the  house  !  Alice,  mamma 
wants  to  speak  to  you ; ' '  and  then  as  her  sister 
stepped  away,  the  child  put  her  hand  through 
Batterman's  arm  with  the  affectionate  familiarity 
of  fifteen.  ' '  Do  you  know,  Chris, ' '  she  said 
confidentially,  "I  think  I'm  going  to  belong  to 
the  nobility  ?  ' ' 

"Why,  have  you  designs  on  L,urgan  ?  "  He 
lifted  his  eyebrows  and  laughed.  Connie  always 
amused  him. 

"  Not  I  !  But  I  am  sure  he's  going  to  marry 
Alice." 

"Really?"  still  laughing. 

' '  Oh,  I  can  tell  the  signs.  He's  fairly  kow-tow- 
ing to  mamma,  and  she  is  kow-towing  back.  Oh, 
Chris,  just  think  what  it  would  be  to  have  a 
countess  for  a  sister  !  I  always  knew  that  I  was 
meant  for  better  things.  Find  out  if  she  really 


14  HER  LADYSHIP. 

is  going  to  marry  him,  Chris,  won't  you, 
and  give  me  a  quiet  tip?  If  she  is,  won't  I  just 
sit  on  some  of  these  Chicagoese  !  Promise  me 
you  will  use  every  effort  to  find  out  her  state  of 
mind!" 

"  I  think  I  can  promise  that,"  Batterman  said 
gravely. 


II. 


A/TRS.  SANDERSON  was  trembling  so  that 
her  hands  could  hardly  unclasp  the  elegant 
little  sable  collar  which  she  wore  tightly  about 
her  throat.  Her  lips  were  set  in  a  determined 
line,  and  the  color  on  her  cheek  was  high. 

Her  husband  had  turned  around  in  the  wheel 
chair  before  his  desk  and  thrown  his  cigar  in  the 
fire,  which  was  always  a  mark  of  extreme  irrita- 
tion with  him.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that  Mr. 
Sanderson  had  ever  been  anything  but  the  man 
of  position  he  now  was.  There  was  no  sugges- 
tion of  plebeian  origin  in  his  face,  too  delicate  a 
face,  his  wife  sometimes  thought,  when  she  had 
seen  brute  force  conquer  him  even  in  some  of  his 
most  delicately  matured  plans.  He  was  a  hand- 
some man,  tall,  dignified,  and  modish.  His  gray 
hair  was  cut  at  just  the  proper  length,  and  care- 
fully parted  in  the  middle  and  brushed  back. 
His  gray  mustache  was  trimmed  sharply  across 
his  fine  mouth.  No  one  would  have  guessed 
that  these  points  were  as  much  due  to  the  care 
of  his  wife  as  the  ring  on  his  finger  and  the  pearl 
in  his  scarf,  or  her  own  careful  toilet.  She 
15 


1 6  HER  LADYSHIP. 

dressed  him  to  fit  the  part  she  intended  he  shoirld 
play,  and,  quite  unconsciously  to  him,  she  taught 
him  most  of  his  lines. 

Unfortunately,  as  the  years  went  by,  Mrs. 
Sanderson  had  taken  on  something  of  the  air  of 
a  general  in  command.  She  had  grown  a  little 
arrogant.  The  delicate  finesse  by  which  she  had 
been  wont  to  manage  her  husband  in  earlier  days 
had  been  put  aside  more  and  more,  as  he  came 
to  depend  more  and  more  upon  her  judgment. 
She  had  almost  forgotten  how  to  steer  away  from 
the  danger  point  of  irritation.  But  as  she  took 
time  to  unfasten  her  collar,  she  mentally  reviewed 
the  situation,  and  calmed  her  outward  agitation, 
although  her  heart  was  fairly  boiling.  She 
wanted  to  cry  out,  to  protest ;  to  tell  her  husband 
not  only  that  he  should  not  oppose  her,  but  that 
at  this  time  he  must  be  a  wall  of  support  to  her. 
In  her  soul  she  almost  despised  him  that  he  was 
not  one  of  those  heavy,  hard  natures  which  can 
deal  bludgeon  blows,  instead  of  the  gentleman  he 
was. 

Sanderson,  partly  conscious  of  her  errand, 
waited  for  the  demand  which  he  knew  was  com- 
ing. Instead  of  making  it  at  once,  she  went  to 
the  window  and  looked  out  over  the  city.  Her 
husband's  office  was  in  one  of  the  tallest  of  the 
Chicago  buildings,  and  far  away  up  on  the  lake 
side  she  could  see,  in  the  brilliant  sun  of  the 


HER   LADYSHIP.  17 

morning,  the  gray  stone  towers  of  her  new  home, 
which  had  appeared,  only  the  other  day,  the  pin- 
nacle of  her  ambition.  Her  great  ' '  house  warm- 
ing "  ball  had  seemed  to  open  every  door  to  her. 
She  had  thought  herself  perfectly  happy  ;  and 
yet,  as  it  had  always  been  since  she  was  a  country 
school  teacher  out  in  Nebraska,  she  found  her- 
self, like  the  fisherman's  wife,  begging  the  Genius 
of  Fate  every  morning  for  some  new  honor. 
There  was  an  inner  social  kingdom,  she  dis- 
covered, of  whose  gates  she  had  only  caught  a 
glimpse.  She  might  stay  out  of  it  all  her  life. 
But  Mrs.  Sanderson  had  no  intention  of  staying 
out  of  any  place  to  which  wit  and  money  could 
effect  an  entrance. 

It  was  this  same  wit  which  taught  her  that  her 
husband  was  in  no  mood  to  be  bullied,  and  that 
she  must  take  time  to  change  her  tactics.  When 
she  turned  her  face  again,  it  was  earnest,  but 
calm  and  sweet.  She  walked  over  and  put  her 
hand  around  his  shoulder  and  sat  down  on  the 
arm  of  his  chair.  Mrs.  Sanderson  was  well  under 
fort3r,  and  her  figure  was  as  slender  as  it  had 
been  ten  years  ago.  Perhaps  she  looked  younger 
and  prettier  in  her  husband's  eyes  for  the 
moment,  because  she  so  seldom  encouraged  the 
girlish  attitude  in  herself.  She  did  not  consider 
it  dignified  in  the  mother  of  a  tall  girl  of  fifteen 
and  the  stepmother  of  a  beauty  of  twenty. 


1 8  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"Dick,"  she  said  caressingly,  and  then  added 
rather  sadly,  "  I  am  worried." 

"What's  wrong?  Cook  out  of  sorts?  New 
brougham  bad  style  ?  " 

His  relief  was  so  great  over  the  change  in  the 
atmosphere  that  he  jested  foolishly,  and  she  paid 
no  attention. 

' '  I  am  worried  over  Alice. ' '  His  eyebrows 
began  to  lower  and  his  hand  relaxed  on  hers,  but 
she  went  on  before  he  could  speak.  ' '  She  is  in 
love  with  Lord  Lurgan." 

Mrs.  Sanderson  grew  cold  about  the  heart  as 
she  said  the  words.  They  had  come  on  the  in- 
spiration of  the  moment,  and  while  she  shivered 
at  her  own  temerity,  she  exulted  at  the  audacity 
of  the  lie. 

Sanderson  pushed  her  away  from  him,  and 
stood  up  before  her. 

' '  What  are  you  saying,  Julia  ?  You  are  crazy. 
You  have  been  worrying  yourself  to  death  for 
two  months  because  you  said  that  you  were  sure 
Alice  had  some  sort  of  an  understanding  with 
Chris  Batterman." 

She  stood  up,  too,  and  looked  at  him  with  an 
expression  he  could  never  resist.  Richard  Sander- 
son had  thought  himself  in  love  with  his  first 
wife  when  he  married  her ;  they  had  been  boy 
and  girl  together,  and  had  been  engaged 
when  they  were  sixteen,  living  on  adjoining 


HER  LADYSHIP.  19 

farms.  She  had  died  before  he  was  old  enough, 
or  had  lived  by  her  side  long  enough,  to  realize 
anything  of  the  depth  and  strength  of  the  na- 
ture which  she  had  possessed,  and  which  she  had 
bequeathed  to  her  infant  daughter.  He  had 
never  learned  it  in  his  daughter.  The  second 
wife  was  the  dominating  passion  of  his  life.  She 
obscured  his  vision.  He  was  a  just  man,  a  good 
man,  a  kind  man,  but  more  and  more,  as  years 
went  by,  he  allowed  his  impulses  to  be  strained 
through  her  reason.  Now,  as  he  looked  at  her, 
he  found  himself  thinking  that  his  wife  was 
clever  and  frank,  and  that  he  was  unjust  and 
vulgar  to  think  that  her  first  care  was  not  for 
his  daughter's  happiness.  Women  understood 
women,  according  to  Mr.  Sanderson's  creed — a 
mistaken  one  which  most  men  share. 

"  But  that  was  before  she  saw  Lurgan.  Today 
— "  she  hesitated — "today  she  saw  him  save  my 
life  at  the  peril  of  his  own,  at  the  risk  of  almost 
certain  death." 

Sanderson's  face  had  grown  white,  and  he  took 
her  almost  roughly  by  the  shoulder. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  He  was  trying  that  dreadful  horse  of  Judge 
Nelson's,  the  one  that  killed  his  groom,  and  I 
came  into  the  way  in  my  victoria  when  it  was 
running  away.  He  pulled  it  over  the  lake  wall 
to  save  me,  and  only  escaped  death  by  a  miracle. 


20  HER  LADYSHIP. 

I  took  him  home  with  me,  and  I  shall  keep  him 
there.  Alice  saw  it  all,  and  in  an  instant  I  knew 
what  was  in  her  mind.  Young  Batterman  was 
never  the  man  for  her.  After  all,  he  is  of  no 
famih7,  no  position,  no  anything,  but  Alice  has 
flirted  with  him  innocently.  She  does  not  know 
what  to  do.  She  thinks  you  want  her  to  marry 
him,  and  that  you  have  a  contempt  for  foreign 
noblemen ' ' 

"Generally  I  have." 

"  But  you  know  Lurgan  is  not  just  a  fortune 
hunter.  He  belongs  to  one  of  the  oldest  and  best 
families  in  the  world,  and  they  have  enormous 
estates. ' ' 

' '  Which  need  money. ' ' 

"  I  tell  you  Alice  is  in  love  with  him." 

' '  If  she  is,  I  suppose  that  settles  it,  but  she 
doesn't  act  much  like  it." 

"  That  is  because  she  is  afraid  of  you." 

' '  What  must  I  do  ?  "  he  inquired  meekly. 

"  The  first  thing  might  be  to  send  Christopher 
Batterman  to  the  Sandwich  Islands  or  some  place, 
quite  comfortably,  so  that  Alice  can  have  some 
decent  pretext  for  breaking  off  with  him.  Girls 
have  such  soft  consciences.  Poor  child  !  She 
would  probably  sacrifice  her  life  and  her  happi- 
ness, and  a  great  future" — Mrs.  Sanderson  had 
almost  added,  "  for  all  of  us,"  but  she  broke  off 
in  time — "  on  account  of  some  light  word  spoken 


HER   LADYSHIP.  21 

in  a  flirtation  with  a  boy  she  has  known  all  of 
her  life." 

"I'd  rather  see  her  marry  Chris.  He  is  a 
splendid  young  fellow.  I  have  had  him  right 
under  my  own  eye  for  ten  years.  He  is  as  good 
as  gold,  and  as  clever  as  daylight.  I  wouldn't 
ask  a  better  son  in  law,  if  the  girls  must  marry." 

' '  But  I  tell  you  she  has  fallen  head  over  ears 
in  love  with  Lurgan.  Don't  you  know  what  it 
is  to  fall  in  love  with  anybody  ?  ' '  She  laughed 
up  in  his  face.  She  had  the  game  in  her  own 
hands  now,  and  she  truly  thought  her  husband 
the  dearest  man  in  the  world.  She  kept  down 
the  subcousciousuess  that  he  was  not  very  clever 
or  quick. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  he  said. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  when  Mrs.  Sander- 
son stepped  into  her  brougham  at  the  door  of  the 
building,  her  face  was  flushed  and  her  eyes  were 
bright  with  a  triumph  which  she  only  dared  show 
to  strangers.  The  plans  were  hers  to  make.  She 
would  be  a  fool  indeed  if  she  could  not  carry  the 
game  now.  Lord  Lurgan's  mother  in  law  could 
do  almost  anything.  She  forgot  all  about  Alice. 
Her  stepdaughter  was  merely  a  pawn  on  her 
chessboard.  She  dreamed  day  dreams  as  the 
carriage  jolted  its  way  toward  the  North  Side, 
caught  here  and  there  in  blockades.  She  looked 
out  on  the  rushing  thousands  of  the  grimy  city, 


22  HER  I/ADYSHIP. 

but  she  saw  only  a  grand  house  for  herself  in 
London,  where  she  entertained  the  great  of  the 
earth.  She  saw  her  own  daughter,  Constance, 
being  presented  at  court  by  her  sister,  the  Coun- 
tess of  Lurgan.  Perhaps — who  knows? — she 
might  herself  be  the  grandmother  of  a  prince. 
She  hid  away  in  the  corner  of  her  brain  the 
knowledge  that  Sanderson  had  heart  disease.  It 
was  a  painful  thought  ;  he  was  so  dear,  so  good, 
he  let  her  have  her  own  way  entirely,  but  if — 
there  was  a  black  space  beyond  that  "if,"  and 
on  the  other  side  of  it,  a  vision  of  herself,  Julia 
Sanderson,  who  used  to  teach  Nebraska  farmers' 
children  to  read,  wearing  a  coronet.  Stranger 
things  had  happened. 


III. 


'"PHE  next  morning,  when  Batterman  went  to 
the  office,  he  found  Mr.  Sanderson  rather 
nervously  walking  the  floor.  As  his  lieutenant 
came  in,  the  mine  owner  looked  at  him  with 
something  like  an  appeal  in  his  deep  set  brown 
eyes.  Batterman  loved  Mr.  Sanderson  as  he 
would  have  loved  his  father  if  he  had  lived  ;  and 
it  is  probable  that  he  saw  the  older  man's  faults 
more  leniently  than  he  would  have  looked  upon 
those  of  a  parent.  There  are  no  sins  that  we  so 
entirely  condemn,  of  which  we  are  so  impatient, 
as  those  we  ourselves  possess,  and  a  parent's 
foibles  are  likely  to  take  on  the  air  of  direct  and 
personal  insults. 

Batterman  was  clever  enough  to  see  that  Mrs. 
Sanderson's  dominion  over  her  husband  was  but 
the  result  of  a  tenderness  of  nature  which  had 
been  used  to  her  own  advantage  by  a  very  clever 
and  very  selfish  woman,  who  still  kept  his  love 
by  appearing  to  be  always  gentle  and  thoughtful. 
It  is  only  your  honest  woman  who  can  afford  to 
quarrel  and  to  get  into  irritating  rages. 

Time  had  taught  Batterman  to  expect  some- 
23 


24  HER  LADYSHIP. 

thing  in  the  way  of  a  change  at  any  moment. 
Mrs.  Sanderson  had  been  making  plans,  and  her 
husband  was  hesitating  about  carrying  them  out. 
The  young  man  hung  up  his  coat  and  hat,  and 
came  back  to  his  desk  and  sat  down.  He  found 
the  whole  top  of  it  covered  with  papers  and  maps. 
They  appeared  to  be  the  prospectus  of  a  mining 
company  in  New  Mexico. 

"What  is  this,  Mr.  Sanderson  ?  " 

"  That  ?  Oh,  yes,  Chris.  I  wanted  to  ask  you 
about  that.  Do  you  think  that  you  could  go 
down  to  New  Mexico  and  look  into  that  property 
— see  if  it  is  worth  what  they  say  it  is  ?  " 

"  I  know  the  history  of  this  property,  sir.  It 
belongs  to  the  Olla  Smelter  people.  It  was  sold 
to  them  by  sharp  practice.  The  owner  made 
them  think  that  two  other  parties  wanted  it,  and 
traveled  about  the  country  on  false  telegrams, 
until  the  Olla  people  thought  that  if  it  was  so 
much  in  demand  it  ought  to  be  theirs.  Oh,  yes, 
I  know  the  concern.  Why  should  you  waste 
time  on  it  ?  You  have  no  other  properties  down 
there.  The  Olla  people  would  have  to  smelt  the 
ore." 

' '  I — ah — thought  of  enlarging  my  field. ' ' 

"And  you  want  me  to  take  my  time  away 
from  the  matters  that  brought  me  to  Chicago  to 
look  into  this  hole  in  the  ground  ? ' ' 

"  I  should  like  you  to  report  upon  this  mine." 


HER  LADYSHIP.  25 

' '  My  report  is  made.  I  know  its  history,  and 
seriously  advise  against  it.  It  certainly  would 
not  be  profitable  to  you  if  the  Olla  people  give  it 
up." 

Mr.  Sanderson  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and 
then  he  said  : 

' '  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  neglecting  your 
advice,  Batterman,  but  I  have  a  reason  for 
sending  you  to  look  at  the  mine.  I  wish  you  to 
go." 

Batterman  stood  up  and  looked  the  older  man 
fairly  in  the  eyes.  They  were  honest,  good  eyes, 
and  the  two  men  loved  each  other. 

"When,  sir?" 

"Today." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  Bat- 
terman drew  a  long  breath. 

"Mr.  Sanderson,"  he  said  steadily,  "I  will 
be  perfectly  frank  with  you,  and  I  ask  the  same 
treatment  from  you.  We  have  been  together  too 
long  for  one  to  finesse  with  the  other.  I  only 
know  the  direct  path,  and  I  am  accustomed  to 
the  direct  word  from  you.  I  cannot  think  that 
this  mine's  future  is  the  cause  of  my  being  asked 
to  leave  Chicago  just  now." 

' '  I  think  I  have  the  right  to  ask  you  to  go 
where  I  choose,  at  any  time.  Those  have  been 
the  relations  that  have  long  existed  between  us 
hitherto." 


26  HER  LADYSHIP, 

"The  business  relations,  yes.  But  I  am  not 
sure  that  it  is  a  business  reason  that  causes  you 
to  send  me  away.  Until  this  moment  I  did  not 
believe  that  words  were  necessary  between  you 
and  me  upon  a  certain  subject,  but  I  fear  now 
that  it  was  a  mistake  upon  my  part  to  neglect  to 
speak  them  long  ago.  You  knew — you  have 
known,  or  I  believed  that  you  knew — that  I  love 
your  daughter,  and  wish  more  than  anything 
else  in  the  world  to  ask  her  to  marry  me. ' ' 

"Don't,  Chris." 

Sanderson  spoke  as  if  it  hurt  him. 

' '  I  must  speak  now,  sir.  I  suppose  some  men  in 
my  position  might  have  thought  twice  before  they 
spoke  of  marrying  the  daughter  of  as  rich  a  man 
as  you  are,  but  I  know  that  you  do  me  the  justice 
to  recognize  that  I  never  thought  of  that.  I  am 
able  to  give  the  woman  I  marry  comforts,  and  I 
have  every  prospect  of  being  able  to  give  her 
much  more.  You  know  me  for  all  I  am,  and  I 
believe  I  may  say  that  I  am  not  now  mistaken 
in  thinking  that  you  have  not  wished  to  dis- 
courage me." 

' '  No,  Chris,  never  ! ' '  Sanderson  put  out  his 
hand.  ' '  If  Alice  were  to  marry  you,  I  should 
give  her  to  you  with  every  hope  for  her  happiness 
and  yours. ' ' 

"Then,  Mr.  Sanderson,  what  is  the  matter 
now?" 


HER  LADYSHIP.  27 

' '  I  hoped  that  you  would  go  away  without 
asking.  My  daughter's  happiness  must  be  the 
first  consideration  to  me.  I  cannot  influence 
her  in  such  a  matter." 

"  But  surely,  Alice " 

' '  I  fear  you  have  taken  her  too  seriously.  You 
have  lived  out  of  the  world  a  great  deal,  and  you 
may  have  made  an  ideal  of  womanhood,  of 
girlhood,  which  is  too  high.  They  sometimes 
trifle." 

"  Not  Alice,"  Batterman  said  very  proudly. 
"  Alice  does  not  trifle." 

"She  may  not  have  intended  to.  I  may  be 
mistaken."  There  was  relief  in  his  voice.  "Tell 
me,  Chris,  has  she  ever  told  you  that  she — cared 
for  you — in  that  way  ?  ' ' 

' '  No,  she  has  not.  She  is  so  young,  I  have 
hesitated  to  ask  her. ' ' 

"Has  she  put  you  off?" 

"A  little,  sometimes,  yes." 

"It  is  very  seldom  that  a  woman  loves  the 
man  she  cared  for  in  her  early  girlhood."  Mr. 
Sanderson  was  repeating  his  wife's  lesson  now. 
"I  am  led  to  believe  that  Alice  has  learned  to 
care  for  some  one  else,  and  is  unhappy  because 
she  has  encouraged  you.  I  speak  with  great 
frankness  to  you,  Chris,  because  you  are  both 
son  and  friend  to  me.  But  the  vagaries  of  a 
girl  cannot  be  accounted  for." 


28  HER  LADYSHIP. 

There  was  silence  in  the  office  for  a  minute. 
The  coming  and  going  of  clerks  in  the  next 
room,  the  voices  of  strangers,  and  the  heavy 
clang  of  a  safe  door  came  through  the  glass 
partition. 

"Mr.  Sanderson,"  Batterman  said  at  last, 
"this  means  too  much  to  me  to  let  it  go  even 
upon  your  word.  I  mean  to  go  to  Alice  and 
ask  her  for  the  truth.  She  is  your  daughter, 
and  she  will  give  it  to  me." 

"You  have  my  permission  to  go,  and" — he 
held  out  his  hand — "  you  have  more  than  that. 
You  have  also  my  sincere  hope  that  you  will 
succeed. ' ' 

"  Is  the  other  man — whom  Alice  is  supposed 
to  care  for — Lord  L,urgan  ?  ' ' 

"Yes." 

Batterman  set  his  lips  tightly  together.  He 
had  seen  the  man  on  horseback,  had  seen  him 
unthinking  of  the  beast  under  him,  seen  him 
fight  it  as  one  brute  would  fight  another,  and  he 
did  not  mean  that  this  man  should  marry  Alice 
without  a  protest  from  himself.  She  was  his 
own.  What  a  fool  he  had  been  not  to  speak,  and 
hear  from  her  own  lips  exactly  what  she  felt  ! 

Well,  he  would  know.  He  put  on  his  coat, 
and,  without  saying  another  word  to  Mr.  San- 
derson, called  a  cab  and  drove  out  to  the  North 
Side. 


IV. 

JV/TRS.  SANDERSON  had  kept  in  touch  with 
her  husband's  daughter  as  closely  as  was 
possible  with  two  natures  that  were  antagonistic 
at  the  core.  Finesse  was  always  the  older 
woman's  weapon.  She  was  like  a  solitaire  player 
who  worked  out  the  game  skilfully  and  fairly 
until  the  point  came  where  not  another  move  can 
be  made,  and  then  she  slipped  a  card  and  pre- 
tended to  herself  that  she  hadn't  seen  herself  do 
it.  It  seemed  so  foolish  to  lose  a  game  on  ac- 
count of  one  card  being  in  the  wrong  place. 

The  morning  after  Lurgan's  installation  in  the 
house,  she  went  into  Alice's  room  and  sat  down 
on  the  side  of  the  bed.  Alice  was  a  very  late 
riser  generally,  and  this  morning  she  was  lying 
in  a  day  dream  ;  all  the  coming  days  looked 
beautiful  now.  Mrs.  Sanderson  put  her  white 
hand  caressingly  on  the  girl's  long  hair,  which 
lay  out  on  the  pillow.  Alice  picked  it  up  and 
looked  at  it. 

"  Mamma,"  she  said,  "where  are  all  of  your 
pretty  rings  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  have  discovered  that  rings  are  not  good 
29 


30  HER  IvADYSHIP. 

style  any  more.  We  are  too  rich  to  wear  them. 
I  am  thinking  of  putting  all  of  my  diamonds 
away.  They  look  ostentatious.  There  are  a 
great  many  things  people  with  as  much  money  as 
we  have  cannot  do." 

"I  never  think  about  our  money.  I  do  the 
thing  I  would  do,  any  way." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  do  not.  People  wouldn't  let 
you.  There  is  only  one  safe  rule  for  people  with 
great  fortunes,  and  that  is,  to  keep  as  much  as 
possible  with  the  people  who  have  like  fortunes 
— or  the  equivalent  in  position.  They  cannot 
gain  anything  from  us.  Money  brings  us  a 
crowd  of  followers.  I  shall  be  perfectly  miser- 
able, for  example,  until  you  and  Constance  are 
married  to  men  who  I  know  are  not  fortune 
hunters,  who  can  offer  you  as  much  or  more 
than  you  give  them.  It  is  a  great  responsi- 
bility ; ' '  and  Mrs.  Sanderson  sighed. 

A  fine  red  made  the  girl's  face  look  like  a  rose 
on  the  white  linen,  and  she  threw  the  veil  of  her 
hair  across  her  cheek. 

' '  I  guess  Connie  and  I  can  relieve  you  of  that 
responsibility.  I  mean  to  marry  myself,  when  I 
get  ready,  and  I  believe  Connie  is  going  to  do 
everything  for  herself.  Your  office  is  a  sinecure; ' ' 
and  she  patted  her  stepmother's  hand. 

"Dear,"  Mrs.  Sanderson  said  impressively, 
' '  do  you  believe  that  I  love  you,  that  I  have  your 


HER  LADYSHIP.  31 

interest  at  heart  just  as  much  as  Constance's?  I 
am  not  your  own  mother,  although  I  have  always 
tried  to  take  her  place  to  you." 

' '  You  have  been  as  indulgent  as  any  mother 
could  be." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  rather  evading  the  question. 
If  f*were  your  own  mother,  it  would  be  so  easy 
to  say  what  I  must.  Perhaps  you  will  think 
diat  your  own  mother  would  not  have  said  it.  I 
can  only  speak  with  my  own  limitations." 

Mrs.  Sanderson's  voice  had  a  pathetic  tremble 
in  it.  It  was  very  unlike  her  not  to  be  firm. 
This  attitude  had  always  been  reserved  for  use 
upon  Sanderson  himself  when  everything  else 
failed,  and  its  strangeness  made  Alice  sit  up,  full 
of  foreboding. 

' '  Is  there  anything  wrong  with  papa  ?  ' ' 

"No,  no."  She  hesitated  and  looked  out  of 
the  window  for  a  moment,  collecting  the  best 
words  to  speak  in.  "  You  are  very  young,  Alice, 
and  I  do  not  want  you  to  spoil  your  life  by — to 
spoil  two  lives,  if  having  your  beautiful  young 
life  in  his  keeping  could  be  anything  but  a  great 
boon  to  any  man. ' ' 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Be  plain,  be  frank  with 
me.  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"I  am  speaking  of  Mr.  Batterman."  Her 
voice  was  low,  and  she  pressed  the  girl's  hand. 
"We  can  all  see,  everybody  can  see,  that  you 


32  HER  LADYSHIP. 

have  a  girlish  fancy  for  him,  that  you  have 
always  had,  and  most  of  all  he  can  see  it — has 
seen  it  for  a  long  time. ' '  Alice  gave  a  little  gasp 
that  was  almost  a  sob,  and  fell  back  among  her 
pillows.  ' '  You  are  the  daughter  of  the  man  to 
whom  he  owes  everything,  his  future  as  well  as 
his  past.  He  is  a  man  of  honor,  a  gentleman  who 
lives  up  to  the  letter  of  his  obligations  in  the 
most  scrupulous  fashion.  You  know  that.  If 
you  love  him,  he  is  ready  to  marry  you." 

' '  How  can  you  say  such  things  ? ' '  the  girl 
wailed. 

"  Because,  my  dear,  they  are  true.  If  you 
should  accept  Mr.  Batterman — and  he  most 
assuredly  means  to  ask  you  to  marry  him,  for 
there  is  absolutely  no  other  course  left  open  to 
him — if  you  do  so,  both  your  father  and  I  know 
that  he  will  be  to  you  what  is  known  as  a  '  good 
husband. '  Perhaps,  as  the  years  go  by,  you  will 
be  as  happy  or  happier  than  the  woman  who  is 
married  because  she  is  loved.  After  all,  in  most 
cases,  marriage  is  a  mere  friendship. ' ' 

Every  word  dropped  on  the  girl's  heart  like 
molten  lead,  scarring,  burning.  But  Mrs. 
Sanderson  was  pitiless. 

"  Your  father  did  not  wish  me  to  speak  to  you. 
He  thinks  Christopher  would  never  let  you  dis- 
cover the  difference,  but  I  know  that  he  cannot 
help  it.  You  would  discover  it  for  yourself,  and 


HER  LADYSHIP.  33 

then — there  would  stretch  before  you  a  long  life 
of  regret.  Caring  for  Mr.  Battermau  as  you  do, 
you  might  be  happy  but  for  the  thought,  which 
cannot  fail  to  come,  that  he  married  you  out  of 
honor  and  pity,  and  that  you  have  spoiled  his 
life." 

She  still  held  the  girl's  hand,  which  lay  limp 
in  hers.  Alice  was  not  the  saint  who  could  clasp 
the  hand  that  smote  her.  Her  father  was  a  sort 
of  hero,  a  creature  all  sweetness  and  kindness. 
His  wife  had  never  allowed  him  to  come  close 
enough  to  his  children  for  them  to  understand 
his  faults,  or  to  believe  for  a  second  that  she 
ruled  him.  To  them  he  was  the  wise,  dignified 
ruler  of  his  household.  That  he  had  seen  her 
humiliation  was  the  bitterest  drop  in  Alice's  mis- 
ery. His  indorsement  made  any  possibility  of  a 
mistake  out  of  the  question.  The  idea  that  her 
mother  could  be  lying  never  for  one  instant 
crossed  her  mind,  and  yet  how  easy  it  would  have 
been  to  prove  it  !  She  had  only  to  speak  to  her 
father,  and  if  it  were  untrue  the  whole  fabric 
would  fall  to  the  ground.  She  did  not  know  that 
Mrs.  Sanderson  was  absolutely  sure  that  there 
would  be  no  confidences  between  father  and 
child.  She  had  made  that  out  of  the  question  by 
years  of  intermediation.  They  were  as  far  re- 
moved as  the  peasant  who  kneels  to  a  saint  and 
his  God. 


34  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"I  have  thought  over  this  for  weeks — for 
months.  Once  I  thought  it  best  to  go  to  Mr. 
Batterrnan,  and  ask  him  to  go  away  and  let  your 
girlish  fancy  die,  so  that,  as  time  progressed,  and 
you  became  older,  you  would  laugh  at  your 
youthful  folly  ;  and  then  I  thought  you  would 
prefer  this." 

' '  Yes,  yes,  a  thousand  times  yes  ;  I  certainly 
should.  Will  you  go  now,  mamma,  and  leave 
me  alone  ?  ' ' 

Mrs.  Sanderson  leaned  over  and  kissed  the  girl 
tenderly  on  the  cheek. 

"  Forgive  me,  my  daughter,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  yes,  you  are  right.  It  was  the  only 
thing  to  do.  But  promise  me  one  thing.  Do 
not  tell  papa.  I,et  him  think,  won't  you,  that  I 
saw  it  for  myself,  that  I  was  not  so  stupid  and 
silly  and  blind ?  Promise  me." 

"I  promise;"  and  a  moment  later,  as  Mrs. 
Sanderson  closed  the  door  behind  her,  and  stood 
alone  in  Alice's  sitting  room,  she  smiled  at  that 
promise,  a  smile  that  was  full  of  satisfaction  as 
well  as  appreciation  of  what  appeared  to  her  a 
humorous  point. 

Alice  lay  for  moments,  stunned  with  wounded 
pride,  and  with  something  that  went  deeper  than 
that.  Of  course  she  saw  it  all  now.  Of  course 
Batterrnan  was  all  that  her  father  and  mother 
thought  him.  It  was  for  those  qualities  that 


HER  LADYSHIP.  35 

she  loved  him.  As  she  thought  of  her  broken 
dream,  she  put  her  face  in  the  pillow,  and  al- 
most choked  with  sobs  that  a  young  girl's  throat 
should  never  feel.  He  should  never,  never 
know  that  she  had  loved  him.  She  turned  and 
touched  the  button  for  her  maid,  and  with  a 
woman's  instinct  asked  for  the  prettiest  house 
gown  she  owned. 

' '  Is  Lord  Lurgan  well  enough  to  come  down 
to  breakfast,  Celeste  ? ' '  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,  miss.  He  has  been  up  this  hour. 
His  sprain  has  been  so  bad  that  he  can  do  no 
walking,  and  they  have  brought  a  chair  that  the 
men  can  carry  for  him.  He  is  in  the  breakfast 
room  with  your  mamma  now,  miss,  looking  as 
handsome  as  a  picture.  But  he  is  not  so  hand- 
some as  Mr.  Batterman  is. ' ' 

Alice  winced  at  the  woman's  insinuating  tone. 
So  even  the  servants  knew  her  secret,  knew  that 
she  was  only  waiting  for  a  man  to  throw  his 
handkerchief  !  Probably  they  thought  of  her  as 
the  rich  man's  daughter  who  would  buy  a  hus- 
band. 

' '  I  think  Lord  Lurgan  much  the  handsomer, ' ' 
she  said.  "He  has  had  more — oh,  I  suppose 
you  people  like  Mr.  Chris'  style,"  she  went  on 
loftily.  ' '  Mr.  Batterman  is  so  good  that  every- 
body thinks  him  handsome." 

She  lingered  over  her  dressing,  and  had  the 


36  HER  LADYSHIP. 

maid  bring  her  her  coffee  and  roll.  She  ached  with 
misery,  and  she  was  trying  to  hide  it  away  some- 
where out  of  sight.  Never  before  had  she  made 
so  careful  a  toilet  for  the  morning,  and  she  was 
still  hesitating  at  the  glass  when  Batterman's 
card  was  brought  up  to  her. 


V. 


T  T  seemed  to  Alice  that  the  name  on  that  little 
bit  of  pasteboard  was  yards  high.  It  was 
the  most  dominating  thing  in  the  room.  She  now 
felt  some  of  Chris"  magnetism  in  its  touch.  She 
was  young  enough  and  girlish  enough,  and  had 
sufficient  imagination,  to  remember  that  it  had 
just  left  his  pocket  and  his  hand,  and  she  felt  as 
a  believer  in  relics  might  when  he  touches  some- 
thing that  has  been  the  property  of  one  of  his 
saints.  Two  hours  ago,  with  the  assurance  in 
her  heart  that  they  two  loved  each  other,  she 
would  have  t>een  calm.  Like  every  woman  under 
such  circumstances,  she  would  have  been  quite 
mistress  of  the  situation.  Now  it  was  altogether 
changed. 

"Tell  Granger  to  wait  a  moment,"  she  said 
indifferently.  She  was  surprised  at  her  own 
voice,  and  then  her  thoughts  ran  ahead  of  her.  Of 
course  we  were  all  mere  machines,  she  reasoned, 
if  we  cared  to  be.  All  there  was  to  do  was  to  let 
your  brain  sit  up  there  aloft  and  control  your 
body.  It  could  not  but  be  a  willing  servant  if 
you  insisted  upon  it.  She  would  show  them  ! 
37 


38  HER   LADYSHIP. 

She,  Alice  Sanderson,  let  a  man  marry  her  out  of 
pity  ?  She  began  to  say  that  she  disliked  him  for 
his  presumption,  and  all  the  time  her  heart,  that 
heart  whose  longings  were  all  to  be  so  rudely  re- 
versed, was  beating  heavily,  sending  nervous 
throbs  into  her  throat.  She  finished  a  last  detail 
or  two  of  her  toilet  and  opened  the  door  to  pass 
the  man  who  stood  there  waiting  with  his  tray. 
He  was  one  of  the  old  servants  they  had  had  in 
Lodge  City. 

"Wait  here  a  moment,  Granger,"  she  said, 
"  and  then  go  down  and  ask  Mr.  Batterman  to 
come  into  the  breakfast  room.  Mamma  is  there, 
is  she  not  ?  ' ' 

' '  Yes,  Miss  Alice — but  Mr.  Christopher ' ' 

' '  Mr.  Christopher  must  take  us  where  he  finds 
us,  at  this  hour  of  the  morning,"  she  answered 
lightly,  and  walked  to  the  staircase,  which  ran 
from  the  end  of  her  hall  down  into  the  conserva- 
tory and  led  her  on  into  the  breakfast  room.  As 
she  removed  her  hand  from  its  bronze  railing, 
she  found  that  Constance  was  in  one  of  her 
erratic  flights. 

"  Oh,  say,  Alice,"  she  began,  "are  you  going 
in  to  see  Chris  now  ?  He's  here  asking  for  you. 
Mother  has  just  sent  me  back  up  stairs.  I  think 
she  wants  to  impress  Lord  Lurgan  with  an  idea 
of  the  discipline  she  has  over  me.  It  appears  to 
be  her  fancy  that  she  can  make  him  believe  I  was 


HER   LADYSHIP.  39 

brought  tip  in  a  pinafore  on  cold  mutton,  like 
those  English  schoolgirls  in  the  novels."  She 
gave  a  crowing  chuckle  which  was  yet  overflow- 
ing with  merriment.  "I'll  bet  a  dollar  she 
thinks  he  thinks  I  never  read  a  novel,  unless  it 
was  '  Ivanhoe '  or  some  dusty  old  thing  !  I  love 
to  see  mother  sit  for  her  picture.  But  are  you 
going  in  to  see  Chris  ?  ' ' 

"Where  is  he?" 

' '  In  the  library.  He  has  something  on  his 
mind.  I  know  from  his  looks." 

"I  sent  for  him  to  come  into  the  breakfast 
room.  They  are  all  there,  aren't  they?" 

"  If  you  mean  mother  and  I^urgan " 

"  I/urgan  !  Oh,  Connie  !  You  are  getting  so 
dreadfully  ill  bred." 

"  Now  that's  just  where  you  show  how  little 
you  know  !  In  all  the  novels  they  always  call 
them  by  their  last  names.  They  sign  letters  that 
way.  You'll  be  calling  him  Lurgan  all  over  the 
place.  Now  you  needn't  look  like  that.  I  know 

I'm "  She  set  her  small  mouth,  and  instead 

of  going  up  stairs,  walked  straight  into  the 
library,  where  Batterman  stood  looking  out  of 
the  window  at  the  lake  and  its  boats  gleaming  in 
the  morning  sun. 

"Say,  Chris,"  she  said,  "when  Alice  marries 
Lord,  Lurgan,  won't  she  call  him  '  L,urgan  '  ? 
Isn't  that  fashionable  ?  ' ' 


40  HER  LADYSHIP. 

' '  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  ' '  Batterman 
asked,  with  some  impatience. 

' '  I  am  talking  about  calling  an  English  lord 
by  his  title.  I  knew  that  years  ago.  Alice  said 
it  was  ill  bred,  and  she  wouldn't  do  it,  but  I 
guess  she'll  find  out  I  am  right  when  she  gets 
over  there." 

"If  you  please,  Mr.  Batterman,"  old  Granger 
interrupted,  "  Miss  Alice  will  see  you  in  the 
breakfast  room." 

"I  believe  I'll  make  a  sneak  back  with  you, 
Chris.  Mother  sent  me  up  stairs  to  study,  but  I 
am  dying  to  stay.  I  have  a  thousand  questions 
I  want  to  ask  his  lordship. ' ' 

"Are  they  all  there?" 

"  That's  what  Alice  asked.  If  you  mean  is 
our  noble  guest  there,  he  is.  Mother  isn't  feed- 
ing him,  but  she's  doing  everything  short  of  it." 

"See  here,  Connie,  I  want  to  see  your  sister 
for  a  few  moments. ' ' 

"She  knows  it,  but  she  can't  tear  herself 
away.  Come  into  the  breakfast  room.  They 
will  all  be  going  out  of  there  in  a  moment, 
and  then  you  can  get  your  chance.  Come 
along." 

The  breakfast  room  at  The  Pillars,  as  Mrs. 
Sanderson  had  named  her  home,  was  smaller  and 
cozier  than  the  great  banqueting  hall  which 
might  have  held  the  chief  of  a  feudal  castle  and 


HER   LADYSHIP.  41 

all  his  retainers.  Lurgan,  lying  at  his  ease  in  a 
chair,  which  had  been  purchased  for  his  use  that 
very  morning,  thought  that  his  lines  had  fallen 
into  pleasant  places,  and  that  Mrs.  Sanderson 
was  a  very  jolly,  clever  sort  of  woman.  Up  to 
this,  he  had  thought  rather  more  of  her  than  of 
the  pretty  stepdaughter,  although  Alice  had  al- 
ways been  in  his  mind  as  a  possible  source  of 
income.  He  frankly  admitted  to  himself  that  he 
had  come  to  America  to  marry  a  rich  girl.  He 
had  been  in  New  York,  and  he  had  decided  that 
the  mothers  and  fathers  of  most  of  the  eligible 
young  women  he  had  met  there  would  expect  too 
much.  They  were  hardly  American  at  all ;  they 
had  the  ways  and  habits  of  thought  of  people  in 
his  own  class — and  yet  he  could  not  quite  take 
them  upon  that  footing.  Marrying  one  of  those 
girls,  whose  fathers  had  Scotch  shooting  boxes, 
and  who  seemed  to  know  the  London  season  just 
a  trifle  more  thoroughly — as  they  were  a  bit 
sharper  in  everything — than  he  himself  did,  was 
not  what  he  wanted  at  all.  He  had  the  old 
fashioned  theory  of  marrying  an  American  girl — 
to  sail  away  with  her  and  her  fortune,  and  leave 
her  relatives  on  their  native  shore. 

Miss  Sanderson  appeared  to  represent  the  proper 
type  exactly,  but  he  was  in  no  particular  hurry. 
He  had  unlimited  faith  in  his  own  power  of 
marrying  the  American  girl.  He  had  a  good 


42  HER   LADYSHIP. 

position,  and  his  carelessly  sowed  wild  oats  had 
never  grown  tall  enough  to  cast  a  deep  shadow 
over  it.  He  thought  that  he  had  mowed  down 
the  one  stalk  which  showed  any  tendency  to  do 
so.  This  morning,  however,  Mrs.  Sanderson  had 
put  a  new  idea  into  his  head. 

' '  You  must  forgive  me  for  giving  you  a  bit  of 
a  warning,"  she  said  laughingly.  "  But  my  hus- 
band has  a  young  follower  who  is  a  little  trouble- 
some at  times.  I  cannot  tell  Mr.  Sanderson  that 
young  Mr.  Batterman  is  an  annoyance,  but  some- 
times I  wish  I  were  less  scrupulous,"  she  went 
on,  with  a  comically  humorous  smile.  "He  is 
allowed  to  do  pretty  much  what  he  likes  in  the 
guise  of  a  lifelong  friend.  The  last  thing  was  to 
annoy  my  stepdaughter  by  trying  to  make  love 
-to  her.  If  the  manifestation  happens  to  be  ex- 
hibited to  you  in  any  unpleasant  fashion,  I  beg 
that  you  will  consider  this  an  apology. ' ' 

And  lyUrgan  had  laughed  :  "I  used  to  have  a 
cousin  who  was  a  chap  like  that.  Indeed,  I  have 
him  yet.  He  was  so  good  we  couldn't  turn  him 
out,  but  we  used  to  wish  we  could." 

But  not  long  after,  when  Alice  came  in  to  say 
"Good  morning,"  and  Batterman's  rather  set 
face  and  somewhat  stiff  manner  followed  her, 
Lurgan  could  not  prevent  putting  into  his  manner 
a  certain  empressement  for  which  he  assuredly 
had  not  planned.  It  was  perhaps  as  much  a  sur- 


HER   IvADYSHIP.  43 

prise  to  him  as  to  Batterman  that  she  answered 
him  as  she  did,  and  came  to  sit  beside  him.  Her 
color  was  brilliant  and  high,  and  her  tongue  ran 
along  in  the  gayest  girlish  talk,  while  Chris'  face 
grew  harder  every  moment,  and  the  point  of  his 
chin  more  determined.  When  he  had  declined 
the  coffee  Mrs.  Sanderson  pressed  upon  him,  he 
arose,  and  deliberately  seated  himself  within  two 
feet  of  Alice. 

I^urgan  settled  himself  in  his  chair.  If  he  was 
to  be  shut  up  in  a  house,  certainly  they  could 
not  have  provided  him  with  a  better  piece  of 
amusement.  When  L,urgan  was  a  little  boy,  he 
had  been  found  one  day,  carrying  an  armful  of 
kittens  from  their  native  loft  out  into  the  rain. 
It  was  discovered,  upon  investigation,  that  he  had 
done  the  same  thing  three  or  four  times  in  the 
course  of  the  morning.  It  %ad  afforded  him  a 
complete  satisfaction  to  see  the  anxious  mother 
cat  pick  them  up  one  by  one  and  carry  them 
laboriously  up  ladders  until  she  supposed  them 
safe  again.  The  present  worry  of  Batterman 
gave  him  something  of  the  same  pleasure.  He 
cynically  believed  that  this  pretty  girl  was  merely 
showing  him  off,  letting  her  poor  Western  lover 
see  that  she  was  quite  able  to  have  an  English 
peer  in  her  train ;  and  he  was  ready  to  assist  her. 

' '  You  Americans  are  quite  too  luxurious, ' '  he 
was  saying.  "  I  shall  have  nothing  to  offer  you 


44  HER  LADYSHIP. 

at  my  place  when  you  come  over  next  year.  It  was 
only  the  other  day  that  we  had  steam  put  into 
Salby  Chase.  I  can  keep  you  warm,  which  we 
consider  a  luxury  ;  but  all  this  beautiful  lighting 
and  ventilating  business  we  haven't  reached." 

1 '  But  you  will  have  many  other  things, ' '  Alice 
said.  ' '  To  one  who  has  been  unfortunate  enough 
to  fill  several  years'  memory  space  with  the  ways 
of  a  raw  mining  town,  age  and  moss  and  tradi- 
tions are  part  of  heaven. ' ' 

' '  We  can  give  you  all  of  those,  but  are  you 
certain,  Miss  Sanderson,  that  you  would  not 
want  your  mining  camp  again  ?  ' ' 

' '  Now  you  are  being  unpleasant.  Must  I 
have  my  fitness  for  the  wild  corners  of  -the  earth 
thrust  upon  me  ?  Do  I  so  surely  carry  the  mark 
of  it?  Must  I  be  condemned  to  remain  in  an 
environment  like  that  ?  ' ' 

' '  You  might  make  a  '  part  of  heaven '  of  even 
that,"  Lurgau  said  audaciously,  conscious  of  the 
man's  face  behind  hers. 

' '  But  I  do  not  wish  to, ' '  she  hastily  an- 
swered. 

' '  Then  it  is  quite  certain  that  you  may  have 
any  part  of  the  earth  you  want.  Take  mine. 
Salby  Chase  is  at  your  disposal.  It  is  old  enough, 
and  mossy  enough,  and  crammed  full  of  tra- 
dition. We  have  every  sort  of  a  story,  and  a 
family  portrait  to  authenticate  most  of  them.  My 


HER  LADYSHIP.  45 

people  have  been  tradition  makers.  They  never 
knew  how  to  die  decently  in  their  beds.  They 
were  always  taken  off  in  the  midst  of  something, 
leaving  a  ghost  behind  to  '  finish  the  job,'  as  you 
people  say." 

"  Do  not  be  too  generous,"  the  girl  said,  con- 
scious, too,  almost  hysterically  conscious,  of  the 
face  behind  her.  ' '  You  might  repent. ' ' 

Not  only  was  Batterman  perplexed,  but  his 
good  taste  was  wounded.  He  recognized  the  al- 
most insolent  tone  of  the  man  who  lay  there  in 
the  chair,  and  his  hand  ached  to  strike  him.  His 
was  not  the  peevish  nature  which  could  blame 
Alice.  He  did  not  understand  her,  but  the 
dogged  loyalty  of  years  would  not  let  him  be- 
lieve that  her  words  and  actions,  in  this  short 
hour,  were  a  real  contradiction  of  the  character 
of  the  girl  he  had  known  so  long  and  so  well. 
He  took  himself  sharply  in  hand,  and  wondered 
if  he  were  not  mistaken,  if  his  sensitive  nerves 
were  not  exaggerating  the  light  talk  of  a  young 
girl  to  a  guest  in  her  father's  house.  He  scorned 
himself  for  foolish  and  unmanly  jealousy. 

Yet  all  the  reasoning  in  the  world  would  not 
make  less  tight  the  tension  of  his  heart  and 
brain.  Stronger  and  stronger  grew  his  determi- 
nation that  he  must  put  Alice's  heart  to  the  test 
of  words  now.  His  talk  with  her  father  had 
changed  everything,  since  only  yesterday.  He 


46  HER  LADYSHIP. 

would  not  take  even  the  evidences  of  his  own 
senses  against  her.  She  must  tell  him.  It  was 
probably  just  such  girlish  talk  as  this  that  had 
misled  her  father  into  thinking  she  cared  for 
Lurgan.  He  would  have  been  more  than  human 
had  he  not  blamed  her  a  little,  but  Batterman 
was  of  that  best  type  of  American  manhood  which 
allows  an  almost  unlimited  latitude  to  the  pure, 
good  woman  he  loves.  He  did  not  measure  her 
by  anything  like  his  own  standard. 

He  had  an  attitude  of  waiting  which  delighted 
Lurgan,  which  was  food  for  the  Englishman's 
vanity,  but  which  made  Mrs.  Sanderson  uneasy. 
She  had  known  Batterman  a  long  time,  she  knew 
that  he  was  not  one  who  gave  up  anything  easily, 
and  she  could  see  in  his  face  something  of  which 
Lurgan,  with  his  thick  shell  of  self  admiration, 
and  his  belittlement  of  all  mankind  not  born  in 
his  own  order,  was  quite  unconscious — an  ex- 
pression of  distaste  and  contempt.  If  Alice  once 
became  aware  of  this  attitude  of  Batterman' s, 
her  mother  knew  that  all  hope  of  marrying  her 
to  Lurgan  might  as  well  be  given  up.  She  might 
crucify  the  girl's  heart  for  pride's  sake,  but  she 
could  not  take  away  her  belief  in  Batterman' s 
judgment.  Alice  would  be  likely  to  cling  to  that 
with  all  of  a  young  girl's  romanticism,  all  the 
more  because  she  must  give  him  up  as  a  lover. 

Mrs.  Sanderson  needed  every  moment  of  Lur- 


HER  LADYSHIP.  47 

gan's  stay  for  the  furthering  of  her  plans,  and 
she  needed  an  open  field.  She  had  never  won 
any  of  her  battles  by  timid  methods.  She  knew 
that  it  is  the  bold  stroke  which  counts.  She  had 
taken  a  few  minutes  to  get  Connie  safely  out  of 
the  way,  and  then  she  came  back  from  the  con- 
servatory with  a  butterfly  orchid  on  her  hand- 
some, round,  ringless  finger. 

' '  Are  you  interested  in  orchids,  I^ord  I^ur- 
gan  ?  ' '  she  asked  as  she  held  it  out.  "It  is  a 
new  craze  with  me,  and  like  all  late  devotees,  I 
am  mad  on  the  subject." 

' '  I  know  less  about  them  than  about  anything 
on  earth,  but  I  think  they  are  no  end  lovely." 
He  took  the  flower,  and  dropped  it  casually  on 
Alice's  shoulder  after  he  had  admired  it  for  a 
second.  Her  dress  was  cut  a  little  low  in  the 
neck,  and  its  purplish  pinkness  was  a  delicate 
contrast  to  the  girl's  white  skin,  on  which  one  of 
the  petals  rested.  In  an  instant  Batterman  was 
on  his  feet,  and  had  brushed  the  flower  to  the  floor. 
Then  he  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  and  handed  it 
to  Lurgau  as  if  he  supposed  that  he  had  dropped 
it  accidentally,  and  was  unable  through  his  lame- 
ness to  recover  it. 

Mrs.  Sanderson  spoke  hastily. 

' '  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  come  into  the  con- 
servatory and  see  my  orchids.  I  have  not  many, 
but  I  think  they  look  rather  well." 


48  HER  LADYSHIP. 

At  a  signal  two  men  came  forward,  and  half 
lifted  and  half  rolled  the  invalid  chair  out  of  the 
room,  while  Mrs.  Sanderson  kept  up  a  loud,  gay 
chatter. 

Battennan  filled  up  the  doorway,  and  turned 
to  Alice. 


VI. 


A  S  Batterman  thus  took  possession  of  her,  a 
**  protest  arose  in  Alice's  mind.  She  dreaded 
the  interview.  She  did  not  know  what  she  was 
going  to  do  or  say.  She  only  conned  one  lesson 
over  and  over  and  over  in  her  mind.  She  must, 
she  nmst,  tell  him  that  it  was  all  a  mistake,  that 
she  did  not  love  him,  that  he  had  entirely  mis- 
taken her.  She  wished  he  had  seen  that  she 
was  trying  to  tell  him  so,  and  had  gone  away 
without  giving  her  this  awful  trial  and  making 
her  tell  the  awful  lie  that  was  before  her.  But 
there  was  nothing  left  but  to  tell  it,  and  to  put 
into  it  all  the  meaning  of  which  she  was  capable. 

"  I  came  here  this  morning  with  your  father's 
sanction,"  Batterman  began.  At  the  mention  of 
her  father  all  the  color  died  out  of  Alice's  face, 
and  she  winced.  ' '  I  came  to  say  something  to 
you  which  I  tried  to  say  yesterday.  You  must 
hear  me  now,  Alice.  Will  you  come  into  the 
library  ?  I  think  we  shall  be  undisturbed  there. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  will  come." 

Determined  to  believe  in  her  as  he  was,  Batter- 
man could  not  fail  to  notice  the  great  difference 
49 


50  HER  LADYSHIP. 

in  her  manner  between  today  and  yesterday.  It 
was  exactly  what  he  would  expect  of  a  woman 
who  had  been  vulgarly  "flirting."  He  would 
not  let  his  mind  contemplate  such  a  possibility. 
Her  father's  words  of  a  few  hours  ago  came  back 
to  him.  Perhaps  he  was  taking  a  young  girl  too 
seriously  ;  he  was  ready  to  begin  to  allow  as 
much  ;  but  Alice  !  He  had  seen  her  grow  up  in 
her  frank  maidenhood  ;  she  was  so  sincere,  so 
genuine. 

He  turned  as  she  preceded  him  through  the 
library  door,  and  closed  it  gently  behind  her. 
Then,  all  his  fine  self  showing  out  of  his  kind, 
grave  eyes,  Batterman  stood  before  her.  He  did 
not  get  a  chair  for  her.  They  both  realized  that 
a  great  moment  had  come  in  their  lives,  and  they 
stood  to  meet  it.  He  had  intended  to  say  such 
gentle,  tender  things  to  her  when  the  crisis 
came.  He  had  had  plenty  of  time  to  think  of  it. 
But  now  he  spoke  abruptly,  and  brought  out 
that  hackneyed  old  sentence  which  has  done  duty 
in  novels  and  plays  until  it  is  known  as  well  as 
the  marriage  service,  though  it  seldom  does 
actual  service  under  natural  circumstances. 

"Alice,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  here  to  tell 
you  that  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart,  more 
than  all  the  world  beside,  and  to  ask  you  to  be 
my  wife." 

Batterman's  voice  was  full  of  feeling,  and  to 


HER   LADYSHIP.  51 

the  trembling  girl  who  had  put  out  a  hand  and 
picked  up  some  trifle  from  the  table  before  her, 
blinded,  bewildered  by  her  own  emotion,  it 
vibrated  like  a  chord  on  some  great  organ.  She 
drew  in  her  breath  and  swallowed  something. 
What  she  wanted  to  do,  what  she  felt  that  she 
must  do,  was  to  put  her  head  on  the  front  of 
Chris'  coat  and  tell  him  all  about  it.  He  would 
understand  her  and  tell  her  exactly  what  to  do. 
It  W7as  Chris,  whom  she  knew  so  well ;  Chris, 
who  knew  the  instant  solution  to  every  difficulty  ; 
Chris,  who  had  just  told  her,  although  she  knew 
it  already,  that  he  loved  her  more  than  all  the 
world  beside  ;  Chris,  whom  she  was  in  the  habit 
of  believing  implicitly.  Here  was  peace  and 
rest,  and  the  end  of  every  burden,  particularly 
that  big  black  one  which  had  come  in  her  step- 
mother's hand  this  morning,  and  which,  was 
crushing  her  heart  and,  it  seemed  to  her,  her 
life. 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  at  him  with 
a  real  appeal,  which  Chris  could  hardly  resist. 
Perhaps,  if  Batterman  had  been  a  little  less  of 
the  chivalrous  gentleman  he  was,  had  had  a  grain 
of  coarse  assurance,  he  would  have  utterly  de- 
molished her  point  of  view,  and  shattered  her 
determination.  If  Alice,  young,  trusting,  in  her 
heart  half  believing  that  it  was  all  a  mistake, 
could  once  have  reached  the  haven  of  his  arms, 


52  HER  LADYSHIP. 

she  never  would  have  left  it.  But  he  stood 
waiting,  and  she  hesitated.  His  words,  as  the 
form  of  them  was  shaped  in  her  mind,  sounded 
perfunctory.  Of  course  they  were  the  lesson  he 
had  learned  and  had  come  to  say.  With  her 
vivid  imagination  she  thought  of  him  as  being 
overcome  with  self  pity  as  he  said  them.  Of 
course  this  was  a  good  and  honorable  man  ;  a 
declaration  of  love  he  considered  her  due,  and  he 
would  not  disappoint  her. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  have  told  me  this,"  she 
said  in  a  tone  so  low  that  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  he  caught  her  words.  "  I  do  not — I  can- 
not  "  Then  she  caught  Batterman's  eyes. 

His  face  was  grave  to  sternness.  She  held  up 
her  head  with  something  like  defiance.  ' '  I  am 
afraid  I  have  misled  you,  Mr.  Batterman. "  Her 
voice  was  calm  to  coldness.  ' '  You  have  taken 
my  friendship  for — something  else. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  have,"  Batterman  said  quite  simply. 
"  I  believed  that  you  loved  me,  or  I  should  not 
have  spoken. ' ' 

Again  the  color  flamed  in  her  cheeks,  at  this 
seeming  corroboration  of  what  she  had  heard.  It 
hardened  her  heart. 

"  I  did  not,  I  do  not,  I  never  have.  It  is  all  a 
mistake.  I  am  very  sorry — I  am  sorry  you  ever 
felt  it  necessary  to  speak. ' ' 

Batterman   was    silent   for  a   moment  which 


HER  LADYSHIP.  53 

seemed  like  an  eternity  to  Alice.  The  toy  she 
had  picked  up  from  the  table  claimed  her  at- 
tention again,  and  she  looked  it  over  minutely. 
She  never  saw  it  again  without  a  sick  remem- 
brance of  that  hour. 

"  I  am  sorry  too,"  he  said,  "  but  for  one  thing. 
It  is  wrong  that  any  woman  as  young  as  you  are 
should  have  the  love  of  a  man  she  does  not  care 
for  brought  to  her.  It  was  all  my  mistake.  I 
put  into  your  heart,  in  fancy,  something  of  what 
was  in  my  own.  It  has  been  a  fairy  tale.  Well ' ' 
— he  reached  over  and  took  her  hands  into  his 
big,  strong  ones — "  I  am  going  away  today." 

' '  Going  away  ?     Where  ?  ' ' 

There  was  consternation  in  her  tone.  It  almost 
made  Batterman  laugh  in  pure  bitterness  of  spirit. 
She  could  stand  here  calmly  after  he  had  believed 
that  he  had  seen  the  love  of  a  woman  in  her  face, 
in  her  tones,  and  in  her  eyes,  ever  since  she  had 
been  a  woman,  and  tell  him  that  it  had  all  been 
a  mistake ;  and  then  in  the  next  moment  she 
gave  him  a  new  proof  of  her  love.  What  could 
he  think,  when  her  eyes  grew  dark  and  her  face 
pale  at  the  mention  of  his  going  away  ? 

' '  I  am  going  to  New  Mexico  to  look  at  some 
mines  which  your  father  thinks  of  buying.  I 
would  not  have  gone  had  you  had  a  different 
word  for  me  today,  but  it  is  best  for  both  of  us 
that  this  should  be  '  good  by. '  ' ' 


54  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  Then,  because  she  was 
young,  and  because  she  loved  him,  and  because 
she  could  scarcely  do  without  him,  and  because  of 
a  thousand  things  which  culminated  in  an  impulse, 
she  held  his  hands  and  said  : 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  go. ' ' 

"Alice,"  Batterman  said,  "do  not  trifle  with 
me.  Tell  me.  Do  you  love  me  ?  "  And  as  she 
did  not  answer,  he  went  on,  "You  do  love  me. 
What  does  this  mean  ? ' ' 

"  I  do  not,"  she  said  proudly,  "  but  I  will  not 
have  you  go  away  on  my  account."  She  was 
mistress  of  herself  again,  all  womanly  pride.  She 
must  show  him  that  it  was  all  a  mistake,  that  she 
was  not  to  be  pitied,  or  to  be  married  because 
she  was  her  father's  daughter.  Better  anything 
than  that.  He  should  stay  and  see  that  she  did 
not  love  him. 

' '  I  will  not  drive  you  away  into  the  wilder- 
ness, and  I  will  not  have  you  change  our  friend- 
ship. You  must  stay." 

' '  You  ask  too  much  of  me. ' ' 

' '  Will  it  mean  so  much  to  you  that  my  father 
will  know  that  you  have  supposed  I  loved  you 
when  I  did  not  ?  ' ' 

Batterman  dropped  her  hands  in  astonishment. 
This  was  an  Alice  he  did  not  know,  and  whom 
he  was  beginning  to  think  that  he  never  had 
known. 


HER   LADYSHIP.  55 

"  Were  it  to  do  a  service  to  you,  I  would  stay," 
he  said.  ' '  We  will  try  and  forget  that  I  have 
been  so  foolish." 

He  turned  away  toward  the  door,  and  she  stood 
there.  A  great  wave  of  tenderness  for  her  went 
through  him,  and  he  went  back  and  took  her 
hands. 

"  Alice,"  he  said,  "  I  am  glad  I  spoke,  for  one 
reason.  I  want  you  to  know  that  at  any  time  or 
in  any  place  where  it  is  possible  for  me  to  do  you 
a  service,  you  have  only  to  call  me.  I  will  come 
from  any  quarter  of  the  earth,  and  will  give  you 
the  best  that  I  have  to  offer. ' ' 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment.  She  did  not 
thank  him,  for  she  could  not  speak.  He  held 
her  hands  tightly,  and  then  let  them  fall,  and  a 
few  seconds  later  Alice  heard  the  lock  of  the  front 
door  close  with  Batterman  outside. 


VII. 

*"PHE  subject  of  Batterraan's  changed  attitude 
toward  Alice  was  not  mentioned  by  any  of 
the  family,  though  perhaps  only  Connie  was  un- 
conscious of  it.  Mr.  Sanderson  looked  wistfully 
at  his  daughter,  and  once  his  wife  caught  him 
following  her  from  the  dinner  table  into  the  draw- 
ing room.  Mrs.  Sanderson  hastily  broke  off  a  con- 
versation with  Lord  Lurgan,  and  went  in  pursuit. 
Her  husband's  attention  was  always  easily  di- 
verted to  herself,  and  she  kept  the  words  from 
being  spoken  which  might  have  turned  aside  a 
stream  of  events. 

Christopher  had  gone  back  to  the  office  and 
told  Mr.  Sanderson  that  he  was  right  so  far  as 
Alice's  indifference  to  himself  was  concerned  ; 
but  he  could  not  believe  yet  that  she  found  in 
Lurgan  the  ideal  of  her  girlish  fancy.  Perhaps 
it  was  vanity,  and  it  may  have  been  instinct, 
which  made  him  reason  in  this  way. 

"I  am  ready  to  go  to  New  Mexico,  sir,"  he 
had  said  finally  ;  and  that  night  he  saw  the  lights 
of  the  villages  which  make  the  outskirts  of  Chi- 
cago flash  by  him. 

56 


HER  LADYSHIP.  57 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  knew  the  real 
meaning  of  loneliness.  He  had  become  an  orphan 
at  sixteen,  and  had  been  obliged  to  leave  school 
then.  He  had  joined  an  expedition  that  was  sur- 
veying the  route  of  a  new  railroad,  and  by  the 
time  he  was  nineteen  was  in  command  of  a  squad 
of  workmen  under  the  chief  engineer.  This 
man,  self  made  himself,  liked  the  clever,  well 
bred  boy,  and  took  him  to  South  America.  A 
revolution,  and  the  death  of  the  man  who  was  his 
friend,  threw  Batterman  on  the  world  at  twenty, 
with  the  assurance  and  experience  of  most  men 
of  forty.  He  had  accepted  Mr.  Sanderson's 
offer  of  a  place  at  the  Gray  Colt  mine,  and  he 
had  been  the  Chicago  capitalist's  constructor  and 
adviser  ever  since.  He  had  known  what  it  was 
to  live  for  weeks  without  ever  seeing  even  a  printed 
word  in  English,  to  lie  out  under  the  stars  at 
night  on  a  high  Peruvian  mountain,  a  thousand 
miles  from  anywhere,  with  only  Portuguese  labor- 
ers near  him.  He  had  been  homeless,  and  with- 
out a  close  friend,  but  life  and  its  good  had  all 
been  before  him.  Now  that  he  had  lost  some- 
thing which  he  had  discovered  to  be  part  of  the 
very  fiber  of  his  soul — the  hope,  the  ever  growing 
certainty,  that  Alice  Sanderson  was  to  make  up 
to  him  for  all  things — he  felt  a  gap  which  it 
would  take  years  to  fill.  The  air  castle  to  which 
all  his  roads  led  was  in  ruins,  and  as  he  had  not 


58  HER  LADYSHIP. 

the  strength  of  mind  to  make  new  ones,  or  to  turn 
back,  he  could  only  stand  still  and  look  at  the 
wreck  of  his  hopes,  and  try  as  best  he  could  to 
explain  to  himself  why  the  disaster  had  been  so 
complete. 

Even  yet  he  clung  to  his  belief  in  Alice.  He 
even  let  his  mind  dwell  for  a  moment  upon  the 
sensational  theory  that  she  had  been  hypnotized. 
How  could  her  whole  character  seemingly  change 
in  one  night  ? 

Before  he  left  Chicago,  however,  Batterman 
had  found  time  to  do  one  thing,  for  which  some 
people  will  doubtless  condemn  him.  He  cabled 
to  an  old  friend  in  London,  one  of  the  few  close 
friends  he  had  ever  made — a  quiet,  studious  man, 
who  had  left  the  wild  life  of  an  active  mining 
engineer  to  become  an  attach^  of  a  great  London 
office.  His  message  asked  for  the  fullest  par- 
ticulars of  the  life  of  the  Earl  of  Lurgan,  and  the 
general  estimate  of  his  character.  He  gave  Clayton 
full  liberty  to  go  about  making  these  discoveries 
in  any  way  he  chose.  It  was  not  a  course  he  felt 
like  suggesting  to  Mr.  Sanderson,  and  he  saw  al- 
ready that  Mrs.  Sanderson  would  keep  her  hus- 
band from  doing  it  upon  his  own  account.  He 
directed  the  answer  sent  to  the  post  office  nearest 
to  the  mines  in  New  Mexico.  He  would  stay 
there  for  a  month,  at  any  rate,  within  which 
period  he  expected  a  reply  to  reach  him. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  59 

When  he  reached  his  destination,  Batterman 
found  a  state  of  affairs  he  had  not  expected.  He 
reflected  grimly  that  by  her  refusal  of  him,  and 
by  his  consequent  coming  down  here,  he  had 
probably  added  a  million  or  so  to  Miss  Alice  San- 
derson's fortune.  The  mine  had  virtues  which 
neither  its  first  owner  nor  the  Olla  Smelter  people 
had  discovered,  and  he  immediately  telegraphed 
this  fact  to  Mr.  Sanderson,  strongly  advising 
him  to  buy  the  property  and  begin  work  at 
once. 

The  answer  he  received  astonished  him.  Mr. 
Sanderson  felt  that  he  had  mines  enough,  and  he 
would  not  touch  this  one.  Batterman  wrote  the 
strongest  possible  letter,  still  urging  the  pur- 
chase. The  reply  he  received  was  vague  and 
full  of  kindness,  but  still  declining  to  take  the 
property,  and  giving  as  a  reason  the  fact  that 
Mrs.  Sanderson  had  grown  alarmed  at  so  much  of 
her  husband's  fortune  being  invested  in  mines, 
and  had  asked  him  to  give  her  a  promise  that 
he  would  go  into  no  more  ventures  of  this 
description. 

The  situation  was  embarrassing  for  Batterman, 
as  he  had  practically  given  his  word  that  the 
property  would  be  taken.  For  half  a  dozen  years 
he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  closing  negotiations 
of  this  sort  for  Sanderson,  but  the  letter  ignored 
this  fact  entirely.  Almost  all  one  moonlight 


60  HER   LADYSHIP. 

night  he  sat  by  the  door  of  the  little  wooden 
"  shack  "  where  he  was  living,  and  thought  the 
matter  over.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  best  that 
he  should  let  the  break  come  now.  His  modest 
savings  were  sufficient  to  make  a  payment  on 
this  mine.  He  had  about  thirty  thousand  dollars. 
If  his  belief  in  it  were  correct,  the  millions 
which  came  out  of  it  would  be  his  own. 

He  wrote  to  Sanderson  and  told  him  that  he 
felt  in  honor  bound  to  take  the  mine,  and  as  his 
employer  refused  to  carry  out  the  bargain,  he 
would  do  so  in  his  own  name.  A  few  days  later, 
when  a  reply  came,  he  felt  that  he  was  growing 
sore  and  sensitive  when  Mr.  Sanderson's  letter 
read  to  him  almost  like  the  words  of  a  man  who 
was  relieved  of  a  responsibility.  He  could  not 
know  how  Mrs.  Sanderson  had  used  every  argu- 
ment at  her  command  to  bring  about  this  state  of 
affairs;  how  she  had  made  her  gentle,  kind, 
yielding  husband  believe  that  the  happiness  of 
his  daughter  depended  upon  it.  Mr.  Sanderson 
offered  him  any  help  it  was  in  his  power  to  give, 
and  commended  him  for  the  desire  to  take  up  a 
business  for  himself,  quite  ignoring  his  often  ex- 
pressed hope  of  presently  making  the  young  man 
his  partner  in  fact  and  name,  as  he  had  long 
been  in  action.  But  Battermau  did  not  allow  one 
disloyal  thought  to  one  who  had  been  his  friend 
so  long.  Now,  as  always,  he  pushed  away 


HER   LADYSHIP.  6 1 

from  him  the  consciousness  of  the  older  man's 
weaknesses,  and  wrote,  thanking  him  for  his  kind- 
ness, but  accepting  none  of  his  offers. 

It  was  time  for  the  report  to  come  from  Ixm- 
don,  and  when  the  month  wore  on  and  it  did  not 
appear,  Batterman  telegraphed  again. 

Clayton's  answer  was  prompt:  "Mailed  full 
statement  twentieth." 

This  was  now  the  thirty  first,  and  any  day 
Chris  might  expect  to  get  information  which  he 
felt  he  might  have  to  send  on  to  Chicago.  He 
set  his  teeth  as  he  realized  that  he  would  prob- 
ably be  called  a  meddlesome  coward  in  case 
there  was  any  reason  why  Lurgan  should  not  be 
the  familiar  inmate  of  the  household  where  Alice 
lived.  The  superstition  which  would  allow  a 
man  to  shield  another  when  they  were  both 
lovers  of  the  same  woman  had  no  sort  of  weight 
with  him.  Perhaps  he  was  too  primitive,  but  he 
saw  no  reason  why  he  should  not  look  out  for 
dangers  for  the  woman  he  loved,  and  try  to 
shield  her  from  them  even  though  she  were  not 
for  him. 

It  was  a  long  gallop  over  the  sun  baked  mesa 
to  the  little  platform  station  where  the  train 
passed  once  a  day,  but  Batterman  made  it  him- 
self, evening  after  evening,  his  broad  sombrero 
flapping  before  his  face  and  cooling  the  still,  hot 
air  of  that  Southern  country. 


62  HER  LADYSHIP. 

At  last  the  letter  arrived,  and  with  it  came  a 
thick,  creamy  envelope  directed  in  a  schoolgirl's 
hand  which  he  recognized  as  Connie's.  The 
latter  he  put  in  his  pocket.  The  temptation  to 
read  it  first  was  almost  irresistible  ;  it  would  be 
full  of  news  of  Alice  ;  but  he  was  going  to  know 
the  contents  of  this  other  letter  first.  It  was 
written  in  the  precise  hand  of  Clayton,  and  every 
word  contained  therein  appeared  to  be  quite  to 
the  point : 
DEAR  CHRIS  : 

The  ISarl  of  I^urgan  belongs  to  a  family  which  has  not 
done  anything,  for  a  hundred  years,  to  publicly  disgrace 
itself  ;  but  some  members  of  it  have  needed  help  to  keep  out 
of  trouble.  The  earl's  mother  is  an  eccentric  lady  who  ap- 
parently believed  that  boys  were  spoiled  by  being  kept  in 
too  tight  a  rein  ;  consequently,  she  gave  her  son  none  at  all. 
At  twenty,  he  had  an  establishment  which  was  talked  about, 
but  I  believe  that  generally  it  is  supposed  to  be  a  thing  of 
the  past.  It  seemed,  however,  worth  looking  into.  I  find 
that  a  cottage  in  the  very  grounds  of  Salby  Chase  is  occupied 
by  a  young  widow  who  lives  there  with  a  companion,  does  a 
great  deal  of  charitable  work,  and  is  now  and  then  called 
upon  by  the  rector's  wife.  The  Dowager  I^ady  Lurgan  never 
pays  her  any  attention,  but  she  must  know  that  Mrs.  Welles 
is  the  lady  who  assisted  her  son  to  receive  his  friends  ten 
years  ago,  as  it  was  she  who  turned  the  establishment  out  of 
doors.  That  is  about  all.  He  has  great  estates,  but  both  he 
.and  his  mother  are  in  debt.  Does  he  want  to  buy  a  mine  or 
marry  your  chief's  daughter  ? 

Yours  as  always, 

CLAYTON. 

' '  I  knew  there  was  something  about  the  brute, ' ' 
Chris  said,  and  he  opened  Connie's  letter.    Inside 


HER  LADYSHIP.  63 

was  another  envelope,  thick  and  white,  with  a 
few  lines  scribbled  on  it : 

DEAR  CHRIS  : 

I  found  you  had  not  had  your  invitation,  although  we  are 
so  stylish  that  the  others  have  been  gone  a  week.  Think  of 
Alice  being  "  her  ladyship  "  ! 

CONNIE. 

His  hands  trembled  so  that  he  could  hardly  pull 
out  the  cards  which  told  him  that  he  was  asked 
to  the  marriage  of  "their  daughter,  Alice,  to 
George  John  Algernon,  Karl  of  I^urgan,  on  the 
loth  day  of  December." 

This  was  the  5th.  It  would  take  him  four 
days  to  get  to  Chicago. 


VIII. 

TT  was  on  the  morning  of  Alice's  wedding  day 
that  Batterman  sprang  out  of  a  cab  before 
the  great  doors  of  the  Sanderson  house.  There 
was  an  air  of  festivity  throughout  the  place. 
Two  carriages  stood  at  the  side,  under  the  wide 
porte  cochere,  with  wedding  favors  at  the  horses' 
heads  and  on  the  men  who  stood  ready  to  take 
them  out.  It  was  old  Granger  who  let  him  in, 
or  he  would  probably  have  been  told  that  none 
of  the  family  could  possibly  be  seen  this  morning. 
The  ceremony  was  to  be  at  twelve,  and  the  bride 
would  leave  the  house  in  an  hour.  But  Granger 
let  him  into  the  library. 

"It  is  Mr.  Sanderson  who  will  be  glad  of  a 
minute  to  say  how  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Batterman,  sir," 
old  Granger  said.  "  I  will  speak  to  him." 

But  Mr.  Sanderson  was  not  allowed  to  come 
down  for  more  than  a  moment  alone.  As  Granger 
knocked  at  his  dressing  room  door,  it  was  Mrs. 
Sanderson  who  looked  out  of  her  own  to  ask 
what  was  wanted.  When  she  heard  that  it  was 
Batterman,  a  frown  drew  itself  between  her  eye- 
brows for  the  first  time  that  day. 
64 


HER  LADYSHIP.  65 

She  had  felt  almost  as  if  she  were  walking  on 
air.  Her  own  success  bewildered  her.  She 
could  scarcely  believe  that  she  had  been  able  to 
play  with  Alice's  feelings,  and  with  the  paternal 
anxiety  of  her  husband,  until  she  had  brought 
this  to  pass.  It  had  been  frankness  between  her 
and  l,urgan  after  the  first  two  days,  and  they 
laid  their  plans  together.  In  the  short  space  of 
three  weeks,  Alice  had  promised  to  marry  the 
young  Englishman,  and  had  said  that  she  did  not 
care  at  all  how  soon  it  came  off.  What  possible 
difference  did  it  make  to  her  ?  She  might  as  well 
do  what  everybody  expected  of  her.  I,urgan  was 
pleasant,  and  ready,  and  quite  unobtrusive.  He 
did  not  offend  her  by  love  making.  Of  course, 
her  own  fancy  was  caught  by  the  thought  of 
being  an  English  peeress,  and — her  speedy  mar- 
riage would  teach  Batterman  how  greatly  mis- 
taken he  had  been  in  thinking  that  she  loved  him. 
Never,  never,  she  told  herself,  could  she  wipe 
out  the  shame  of  that  humiliation. 

Of  course,  to  the  wise  and  elderly,  and  to  those 
to  whom  the  temptation  of  salving  wounded 
pride  and  becoming  a  countess  at  the  same  time 
has  never  been  given,  all  these  reasons  are  con- 
temptible ;  but  to  Alice,  a  young  girl  who  felt 
that  her  heart  and  her  love  were  dead  forever, 
they  were  quite  sufficient.  She  had  not  been 
allowed  time  to  think — Mrs.  Sanderson  had  at- 


66  HER  LADYSHIP. 

tended  to  that.  Now,  in  this  hour  before  they 
set  out  for  the  church,  that  lady  thought  she  had 
earned  a  moment's  respite  from  vigilance,  and 
here  was  the  tiresome  Batterman  obtruding  him- 
self. 

"Richard,"  she  called  to  her  husband,  "if 
you  are  going  to  see  Mr.  Batterman,  ask  him  to 
come  up  here.  I  should  like  to  see  him,  too." 

And  when  Batteruiau  handed  out  the  letter 
which  Clayton  had  written,  it  was  to  see  it  passed 
into  Mrs.  Sanderson's  hands. 

"  Why  do  you  bring  us  this  vulgar  piece  of 
gossip,  Mr.  Batterman  ?  ' '  she  asked  with  extreme 
haughtiness. 

' '  I  cannot  call  it  a  vulgar  piece  of  gossip,  Mrs. 
Sanderson.  It  cannot  be  too  late  to  save  Alice 
until  she  is  actually  married  to  this  man.  You 
know  that  her  happiness  is  more  to  me  than  all 
the  world  beside." 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  that,  when  you  come 
to  bring  the  blight  of  a  scandal  upon  her  wed- 
ding day.  She  is  about  to  marry  a  young  man 
who  is  in  every  way  a  suitable  match  for  her, 
who  loves  her,  and  whom  she  loves.  It  is  in- 
sulting to  both  of  them  that  a  discarded  suitor 
should  be  allowed  to  come  to  her  father,  at  this 
hour,  and  carry  tales  to  the  discredit  of  the  man 
she  is  to  marry.  Christopher  Battermau,  I  never 
supposed  you  were  jealous  and  spiteful." 


HER   LADYSHIP.  67 

Mrs.  Sandersoii  would  have  liked  to  order 
Battermaii  out  of  the  house,  but  she  had  had  a 
glimpse  of  her  husband's  face,  and  saw  him  more 
moved  than  she  had  ever  known  him.  She  could 
only  try  to  belittle  the  accuser ;  but  Sandersoii 
put  his  hand  on  her  arm  with  a  silencing  gesture. 

"  I  do  not  think  this  an  idle  thing.  If  this  is 
true,  it  should  be  told  to  Alice.  In  any  case, 
Lurgan  should  be  asked  to  deny  it." 

"You  know  it  cannot  be  true." 

"  I  know  Clayton,"  her  husband  said. 

' '  At  least  it  cannot  be  true  that  that — person 
is  there  now.  You  cannot — oh,  Richard  !  "  Mrs. 
Sanderson  clasped  her  hands  and  tears  came  into 
her  eyes;  and  even  as  she  cried  she  thought 
that  tear  marks  would  be  expected  of  her  on  a 
day  like  this.  "You  cannot  ruin  the  child's 
happiness,  and  cover  her  with  humiliation  on  her 
wedding  day,  for  a  bit  of  hearsay  gossip  about 
an  indiscretion  of  a  man's  youth.  It  is  im- 
possible. If  3^ou  stopped  the  marriage  now, 
Alice  would  never  hold  up  her  head  again.  And 
Connie  !  /  can  remember  that  we  have  more 
than  one  child." 

Sanderson  looked  at  her  and  wavered. 

"  She  loves  Lurgau.  You  see  she  loves  him, 
and  he  loves  her.  You  have  seen  men  who  had 
not  been  saints  in  their  boyhood  turn  into  strong 
men  and  good  husbands. ' ' 


68  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"She  is  right,  Batterman,"  Mr.  Sanderson 
said  at  last.  ' '  I  have  not  the  heart  to  go  to  her 
now  with  this  story." 

' '  But  you  should  go  to  I/urgan  with  it. ' ' 

"Nor  that!"  Mrs.  Sanderson  said,  and  she 
threw  the  paper  into  the  open  fire.  "  Pardon 
me,  Mr.  Batterman,  but  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse 
us.  You  have  made  us  both  miserable,  but  I  wiU 
not  consent  to  your  making  others  unhappy. ' ' 

"The  carriages  are  ready,  madam,"  the  man 
at  the  door  announced. 

"You  go  up  to  Alice  and  bring  her  down," 
Mrs.  Sanderson  said  hastily,  turning  to  her  hus- 
band ;  and  before  Batterman  quite  realized  it,  he 
was  walking  down  the  hall,  was  on  the  staircase, 
every  step  seemingly  bringing  him  to  his  own 
execution. 

Up  stairs  Alice  was  turning  about  to  take  a  last 
look  into  the  pretty  room  she  was  leaving.  It 
was  only  the  other  day  she  had  come  here,  wild 
with  delight  at  all  the  pleasures  of  life  before  her, 
and — she  felt  it  with  a  dull  ache  which  seemed 
to  her  as  if  it  would  never  stop — conscious  of  a 
strong,  deep  human  love  which  she  told  herself 
was  dead  forever  now.  What  mattered  it. what 
became  of  this  stupid,  unfeeling  Alice  Sanderson? 
They  called  her  again,  the  maids  and  her  mother 
and  Connie  and  her  father  surrounded  her,  telling 
her  of  late  arrived  presents,  of  a  thousand  things. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  69 

She  hardly  knew  how  she  got  through  the 
ceremony.  She  seemed  to  be  walking  in  a  mist. 
Voices  sounded  afar.  There  were  flowers  and 
lights  and  music ;  she  said  some  words,  and 
then  she  turned  away,  having  exchanged  her 
father's  arm  for  another,  which  was  larger  and 
firmer,  but  not  so  familar.  She  had  only  one 
shock  of  consciousness,  and  that  was  at  the  door, 
when  she  looked  up  and  saw  Batterniau's  white 
face.  He  had  not  gone  into  the  church.  Her 
heart  contracted,  her  step  was  unsteady  for  a 
moment,  and  then,  poor  child,  she  remembered 
that  it  was  that  Chris  might  see  it  all  that  she 
had  come  to  this  place.  And  then  confusion 
settled  about  her  again,  and  she  was  left  to 
think  her  own  thoughts. 

She  had  a  feeling  of  repulsion  when  I/urgan 
put  his  hand  on  hers  in  the  carriage,  and  she 
gently  drew  away.  She  did  not  dislike  him,  but 
he  disturbed  her.  There  was  the  rush  of  the 
breakfast,  the  change  of  dress,  the  drive  to  the 
private  car  which  was  to  take  them  all  to  New 
York.  It  was  all  so  unnatural,  that  one  more 
touch,  in  having  L,urgan  almost  always  beside 
her,  was  hardly  noticeable. 

It  was  only  at  last,  when  the  steamer  left  its 
dock,  and  she  stood  on  the  deck,  waving  good 
by  to  her  people  on  the  pier,  that  a  little  thrilling 
consciousness  of  what  she  had  done  possessed  her. 


70  HER  LADYSHIP. 

They  were  rapidly  moving  down  the  bay,  and 
New  York  and  America  were  becoming  parts  of 
the  landscape,  when  she  turned  and  looked  at  the 
man  beside  her,  and  realized  that  he  was  her  hus- 
band. For  him  she  had  given  up  home  and 
country  and  friends,  and  to  her  he  was  a  stranger. 


IX. 


T^HB  demesne  of  Salby  Chase  was  a  large  one, 
but  like  most  properties  in  the  agricultural 
counties  of  England,  it  had  suffered  from  de- 
pression during  the  past  ten  years.  Lurgan  had 
done  absolutely  nothing  to  improve  it  by  helping 
his  people.  His  mother  had  had  almost  com- 
plete control  of  the  estate  ;  all  he  asked  was  an 
income,  and  he  did  not  receive  enough  to  keep 
him  from  contracting  debts,  against  which  the 
dowager  had  not  remonstrated. 

' '  Boys  will  be  boys,  and  I^urgan  will  marry  a 
wife  one  of  these  days,"  she  always  said  com- 
fortably. There  was  an  ingrained  selfishness  in 
him  upon  which  she  thoroughly  relied,  knowing 
its  workings  within  herself.  And  now  he  had 
done  exactly  what  she  had  advised  and  supposed 
he  would  do  when  he  went  to  America — brought 
home  a  rich  wife. 

Lady  Lurgan  was  waiting  for  their  arrival  at 
Salby  Chase  this  February  evening,  with  a  house 
party  of  guests  about  her.  Steam  had  been  put 
through  the  old  building,  but  for  all  that  logs  of 
burning  wood  sent  their  pungent  odors  through 


72  HER  LADYSHIP. 

the  house.  A  more  or  less  talkative  group 
gathered  about  the  tea  table  when  Lady  Lurgan 
poured  tea.  Most  of  the  people  had  something 
of  the  look  of  herself  and  her  son,  and  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  they  were  all  more  or  less  distantly 
related.  Their  dark  skins,  eyes  a  trifle  too  close 
together,  and  narrow  foreheads  sho\ved  people 
of  the  same  racial  characteristics.  Lady  Lurgan's 
teeth  were  large,  and  a  trifle  prominent  when  she 
talked,  and  she  wore  a  headdress  made  of  a  lace 
handkerchief  which  gave  her  an  appearance  of 
being  crowned.  Her  hands,  as  they  moved 
about  over  the  cups  and  saucers,  were  full  of 
nervous  force  and  energy.  Unlike  Mrs.  San- 
derson, she  did  not  feel  that  she  was  too  rich  to 
wear  rings,  for  her  fingers  were  covered  with 
them,  many  of  dim  old  stones  in  antique  settings. 
They  were  the  hands  of  a  strong  woman,  with 
considerable  imagination. 

Only  a  few  feet  from  the  dowager  sat  her  niece, 
Lady  Fortescue,  who  was  a  curious  commentary 
upon  her  aunt's  appearance,  showing  as  she  did 
what  L^dy  Lurgau  might  have  looked  like  long 
ago,  when  the  flame  of  youth  burned  within  her. 
Nobody  ever  passed  Lady  Fortescue  by  without 
a  second  look.  She  was  taller  by  an  inch  or  two 
than  almost  any  woman  she  knew.  The  others 
said  that  that  last  inch,  at  least,  was  due  to  arti- 
ficial aid,  because  it  was  only  after  giantesses  be- 


HER   LADYSHIP.  73 

came  fashionable  that  she  took  it  on.  She  was 
delightfully  slender,  with  the  sweet  roundness  of 
a  very  young  girl,  although  she  was  past  thirty. 
There  could  be  no  doubt  that  the  color  in  her 
hair  and  cheeks  was  genuine,  for  she  threatened 
to  dye  her  hair  black,  because  its  natural  bright 
blonde  tint  was  unfashionable  and  "  vulgar  "  for 
the  moment ;  and  besides,  her  color  varied  as  she 
moved  and  spoke.  But  it  was  her  eyes  and 
mouth  that  held  everybody  with  a  momentary 
stare  of  wonder.  Her  thick  brows,  darker  than 
her  hair,  met  in  a  point  over  her  nose,  making 
heavy  marks  that  would  have  been  disproportion- 
ate to  most  eyes.  But  I/ady  Fortescue  had  a 
pair  of  lamps  which  would  have  asserted  them- 
selves had  they  been  placed  under  a  bushel. 
Nobody  ever  knew  exactly  what  color  they  were 
— only  that  they  were  big  and  very  brilliant. 
They  were  conspicuous  enough  when  their 
owner's  face  was  in  repose,  but  when  she  smiled, 
with  full  crimson  lips  parted  over  teeth  as  bril- 
liant as  her  eyes,  the  effect  wras  almost  startling. 
A  jealous  woman  once  said  that  Lady  Fortescue 
reminded  her  of  the  wolf  in  the  story  of  Red 
Ridinghood,  but  everybody  else  thought  her  re- 
mark stupid  as  well  as  unkind. 

Theo  Fortescue  had  not  married  until  com- 
paratively late.  She  had  no  fortune,  and  people 
generally  thought  she  would  end  by  marrying 


74  HER  LADYSHIP. 

some  susceptible  young  man  years  her  junior. 
There  was  always  at  least  one  of  them  dying  of 
love  for  her,  waiting  at  her  elbows  to  fetch  and 
carry.  People  even  settled  upon  Lord  Lurgan 
as  her  possible  husband,  but  the  dowager  knew 
better  than  that.  That  worldly  mother  was  in 
the  habit  of  calling  attention  to  the  success  with 
which  she  had  brought  up  her  son,  and  frankly 
naming  some  of  her  methods  for  keeping  him  out 
of  the  way  of  designing  ' '  husband  hunters. ' '  In 
her  heart  she  knew  that  her  niece  did  not  care 
one  straw  for  Lurgau,  and  did  not  want  to  marry 
him  ;  but  she  did  not  know  when  Theo  might 
see  fit  to  change  her  mind.  It  was  a  relief  to 
everybody  when  she  finally  accepted  old  Lord 
Fortescue,  who  was  a  new  baron,  if  he  was  sixty 
five,  and  who  needed  somebody  to  spend  the 
money  which  had  come  in  from  his  Cornish  mines. 
His  wife  was  doing  it  admirably. 

Standing  with  his  back  to  the  blaze,  cutting  the 
heat  off  from  about  one  third  of  the  room,  was  a 
brother  in  law  of  Lady  Lurgan' s,  who  was  accept- 
ing his  nephew's  marriage  with  all  the  philosophy 
that  could  be  expected  of  a  man  whose  home 
seemed  likely  to  be  broken  up.  When  the  late 
Earl  of  Lurgan  died,  his  widow  brought  her  hus- 
band's brother,  the  Hon.  Captain  Alfred  Innis, 
to  Salby  Chase,  as  her  assistant  in  its  manage- 
ment. Captain  Innis  had  served  first  in  a  crack 


HER   LADYSHIP.  75 

cavalry  troop  and  then  in  a  line  regiment,  but 
early  in  his  career,  without  one  word  of  explana- 
tion— unless  it  was  privately  talked  over  between 
him  and  his  colonel — he  had  sent  in  his  papers, 
and  come  back  from  India  to  private  life. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Cecilia,"  Captain  Innis  was 
saying,  ' '  that  you  might  have  kept  that  tea  out 
until  the  bride  came.  She's  getting  a  dismal 
enough  welcome  as  it  is — no  arches,  no  joy  bells, 
no  grateful  tenantry,  and  now  cold  tea." 

' '  There  will  be  fresh  brought  in  for  her,  and 
since  she  is  inevitably  going  to  upset  so  many  of 
our  ways,  I  do  not  see  why  we  should  all  begin 
to  go  thirsty  so  soon.  She  can  keep  us  waiting 
for  tea  tomorrow  if  she  cares  to. ' ' 

"  Or  give  us  none  at  all,"  Lady  Fortescue  put 
in  vivaciously.  ' '  I  hear  that  Americans  do  not 
serve  it  except  upon  '  days, '  as  they  call  them. 
It  is  not  a  meal  with  them,  but  a  function.  They 
dress  it  up.  They  only  have  it  once  a  week  or  a 
fortnight,  and  then  they  put  green  vines  and  ex- 
pensive roses  on  a  pink  satin  tablecloth,  and  dress 
young  girls  in  ball  gowns  to  pour  the  tea  out, 
and  serve  sweets  and  salted  nuts  with  it.  Aunt 
Cecilia,  you  should  have  pretended  that  this  was 
a  '  day,'  and  have  let  me  wear  my  yellow  tulle 
and  pour  the  tea  for  the  bride." 

"Why  isn't  anybody  at  the  station?  Why 
this  gathering,  as  if  the  new  Lady  Lurgan  was  a 


76  HER  LADYSHIP. 

will  that  was  going  to  be  read?"  a  young  man 
in  a  golf  suit  asked. 

"My  dear  boy,  that  is  the  case  exactly," 
Lady  Fortescue  said.  "She's  the  will.  We 
have  read  some  of  the  paragraphs,  and  we  are 
carrying  them  out.  Algernon  wrote  that  they 
wanted  no  demonstration  of  any  sort.  I  believe 
an  American  reporter  has  followed  them  all  the 
way  across  the  ocean  to  see  their  arrival,  and  to 
telegraph  the  meetings  and  the  demonstrations. 
Probably  he  belongs  to  a  rival  paper  to  that 
owned  by  Lady  Lurgan' s  papa." 

1 '  Does  he  own  a  newspaper  ?  ' ' 

"  My  dear  ignorant  child  !  They  all  do.  All 
those  American  millionaires  own  papers,  which 
are  kept  by  them  to  further  their  business 
interests  and  to  report  the  gowns  of  their  wives 
and  daughters. ' ' 

' '  Well,  I  hope  Lady  Lurgan  will  have  some 
pretty  ones,"  the  blunt  young  man  said  tact- 
lessly. "  I  hear  they  can  simply  knock  out  our 
women  at  dressing." 

"  Doubtless,"  Lady  Fortescue  said  dryly. 

There  was  no  time  for  anything  more,  for  the 
opening  of  the  great  hall  door  could  be  heard, 
and  Lady  Lurgan  arose  with  precipitation,  and 
with  a  little  paleness  in  her  cheek.  She  was  a 
woman  who  prided  herself  upon  being  practical, 
but  it  was  a  great  deal  to  her  to  have  her  only 


HER   LADYSHIP.  77 

son  bring  home  his  bride,  the  woman  who  had 
taken  her  own  name  and  title,  who  would  sit  in 
the  seat  which  had  been  hers  so  long,  and  who 
would  probably  be  the  mother  of  the  Karls  of 
Lurgan  to  come.  Her  imagination  sent  pictures 
of  varying  possibilities  before  her  mind's  eye. 
She  intended  to  be  all  that  was  possible  to  this 
young  foreigner.  In  her  heart  she  despised  her 
a  little,  as  one  who  had  come  with  money 
in  her  hand  to  buy  a  title  ;  but  they  would  have 
the  great  common  interest  of  wishing  to  build  up 
the  estate  and  keep  Lurgan  within  bounds.  Lady 
Lurgan  was  determined  to  be  friends  with  the 
newcomer  if  possible. 

But  she  almost  stopped  short  when  she  saw  the 
bride,  so  different  was  the  reality  from  her  ex- 
pectation. Alice  had  put  on  a  long  traveling 
cloak  of  dark  cloth  with  a  pearl  lining,  and  as  she 
threw  it  back,  her  fine,  delicate  figure  in  its  dark, 
plain  gown  was  relieved  against  it.  Her  eyes 
looked  from  a  white  face  into  those  of  Lady 
Lurgan  with  almost  an  appeal.  It  would  have 
moved  most  women  to  take  the  slender,  almost 
childish  creature  into  their  arms  and  comfort  her, 
to  assure  her  that  her  troubles  were  over  and  that 
she  had  a  haven  at  last.  But  to  L,ady  L,urgan  it 
meant  the  strongest  repulsion. 

"She  looks  as  if  she  were  trying  to  tell  the 
world  that  Algy  beats  her,"  she  thought  bitterly. 


78  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"  She  has  no  pluck,  uo  backbone.  She  is  going 
to  whine." 

A  positive  feeling  of  rage  possessed  her,  and 
the  friendliness  and  concern  that  had  been  in  her 
face  a  moment  earlier  all  died  away. 

"I  know  you  are  very  tired,"  she  said  after 
the  introductions  had  been  made,  and  I^urgan 
had  greeted  his  relatives  and  friends,  who  were 
saying  all  sorts  of  congratulatory  things  to  him  ; 
"but  a  cup  of  fresh  tea  will  revive  you.  For 
my  part  I  cannot  see  why  you  came  home  now. 
It  would  have  been  far  wiser  to  have  remained 
on  the  continent  until  May  or  the  first  of  June, 
as  you  did  not  come  home  in  November.  This 
is  the  season  when  all  the  clever  people  who  can 
afford  it  go  to  the  Riviera." 

Alice's  face  flushed  crimson.  She  had  learned, 
in  the  months  since  her  marriage,  that  there  was 
a  bluntness  of  speech  which  was  quite  harmless 
and  meaningless,  though  she  had  never  been  ac- 
customed to  it ;  but  the  reference  to  "  affording  " 
touched  her  in  a  tender  spot.  They  had  met  a 
great  many  English  people  in  Rome  and  Paris 
and  Vienna  during  their  months  abroad, 
and  always  and  everywhere  there  had  been 
more  or  less  frank  allusions  to  her  money,  and  to 
Lurgan's  good  fortune  in  securing  it.  She  had 
longed  to  get  to  some  place  she  might  call 
"  home."  It  was  hardly  that  she  was  homesick 


HER  LADYSHIP.  79 

for  Chicago.  The  great  house  there  had  never 
seemed  home-like.  It  was  like  some  brilliant 
pavilion  upon  a  road,  in  which  she  had  stopped 
to  dance  and  make  merry.  She  had  a  sense, 
sometimes,  that  she  had  no  home.  The  house 
out  by  the  mine,  where  the  roses  grew  over  the 
window,  and  where  Chris  came  to  luncheon  and 
dinner,  was  home.  She  put  that  thought  out  of 
her  mind,  however,  ignoring  it  as  quickly  as 
possible.  It  was  something  to  which  she  must 
not  let  herself  hark  back  for  a  moment. 

Perhaps  she  would  find  home  at  Salby  Chase. 
She  had  several  photographs  of  the  beautiful  old 
house,  with  its  different  orders  of  architecture  so 
blended  and  covered  over  by  ivy,  and  set  about 
with  terraces,  that  any  incongruity  was  forgotten. 
She  had  put  them  out  where  she  could  look  at 
them  and  dream  about  them  as  they  wandered 
about  the  continent.  Lurgan  was  good  natured, 
ready  to  amuse  her,  and  not  very  troublesome, 
and  she  had  the  respect  for  him  which  any  un- 
spoiled young  girl  has  for  the  man  she  marries. 
She  felt  that  a  great  happiness  could  never  be 
hers — no,  never  !  But  she  could  and  would  have 
a  home.  And  this  was  it — this  house  full  of 
people  who  looked  at  her  curiously  as  if  she  were 
a  barbarian  from  some  unknown  corner  of  the 
earth.  She  had  already  acquiesced  in  I^urgan's 
wish  that  his  mother  should  live  with  them.  She 


80  HER  LADYSHIP. 

had  no  wish  to  be  quite  alone  with  her  husband  ; 
but  she  had  not  expected  to  be  told  that  she  was 
a  fool  for  coming  home. 

"Perhaps,  I,ady  Lurgan,"  Lady  Fortescue 
began,  and  then  hesitated.  "Or  Alice — I  may 
call  you  Alice,  may  I  not  ?  I  hear  that  there  are 
no  end  of  Alices  in  America  since  that  queer 
song  of  Mr.  Du  Maurier's  became  a  fad  over 
there.  Are  you  a  genuine  Alice,  or  are  you  a 
Sweet  Alice  of  '  Ben  Bolt '  creation  ?  ' ' 

"I  was  christened  Alice,  I  believe,"  young 
Lady  Lurgan  said,  a  little  stiffly. 

' '  Now  that  is  another  interesting  thing  that  I  do 
want  to  ask  you  about.  I  have  heard  that  there 
are  hundreds  and  thousands  of  Americans  that 
were  never  christened  at  all.  They  just  give 
their  children  names,  and  if  the  children  choose, 
they  change  them  when  they  grow  up." 

"  Oh,  I  know  a  better  story  than  that,  Theo," 
Lurgan  put  in.  "I  heard  it  in  Chicago.  They 
have  a  railroad  out  there  called  the  '  St.  Paul. '  A 
very  religious  gentleman,  who  builds  sectarian 
colleges  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  went  down 
into  '  the  Street, '  as  they  call  Wall  Street  in  New 
York,  and,  as  the  Americans  say,  everlastingly 
squeezed  it  dry  through  operating  in  '  St.  Paul. ' 
So,  feeling  rich  and  generous,  he  put  up  a  big 
stained  glass  window  in  his  college  chapel,  the 
design  of  which  is  '  The  Conversion  of  St.  Paul.'  " 


HER  LADYSHIP.  8 1 

In  the  general  laugh  Alice  stood  up. 

"I  ain  very  tired,"  she  said,  "  and  if  you  will 
allow  me,  I  will  go  up  for  a  little  while  before 
dinner. ' ' 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Lady  Lurgan  replied  hastily; 
' '  I  will  show  you  your  rooms  myself. ' ' 

' '  Do,  mother, ' '  Lurgan  said.  ' '  I  want  to  run 
around  the  stables  for  half  an  hour.  I  bought 
some  horses  in  Vienna,  and  I  want  to  see  where 
I  am  to  put  them." 

But  after  he  had  held  the  door  open  for  his 
mother  and  his  wife  to  pass  through,  he  did  not 
turn  toward  the  stables.  Lady  Fortescue  had 
seated  herself  in  a  great  Turkish  chair,  and  put 
the  toes  of  her  satin  slippers  on  the  fender.  Her 
big  eyes  were  blazing  and  her  mouth  was  open. 
Lurgan  looked  back  at  her,  and  saw  a  woman  he 
could  understand.  With  a  certainty  of  being  in 
loose  and  easy  mental  garments,  he  went  back, 
sat  down  beside  her  on  an  ottoman,  and  picked 
up  a  plate  of  cake.  One  could  talk  about  any- 
thing to  Theo. 

' '  What  brought  you  back  ? ' '  she  asked,  as  if 
it  were  a  secret. 

"  Fact  is,"  he  said,  nursing  his  knees,  "  that 
Alice  wanted  to  come  home.  I  think  she  wants 
to  settle  down.  She's  probably  full  of  ideas 
about  being  the  head  of  a  great  estate.  Wants 
to  go  in  for  charities  and  that  sort  of  thing." 


82  HER   LADYSHIP. 

' '  Ah  !    Model  cottages,  or  jelly  and  blankets? ' ' 

"  Not  much  in  the  model  cottage  way,  I  am 
afraid,"  Lurgau  laughed.  "I  never  could  see 
the  sense  in  making  people  uncomfortable  at  your 
own  expense.  They  don't  want  to  pay  any  more 
rent  for  clean  houses  than  for  dirty  ones,  and 
the  clean  ones  are  not  half  so  picturesque. ' ' 

"  But  the  jelly  and  blanket  field  is  pretty  well 
occupied,"  Lady  Fortescue  went  on  pensively. 
"You  already  have  ladies  in  the  neighborhood 
who  devote  a  great  deal  of  time  to  the  amelio- 
ration of  the  poor. ' ' 

"See  here,  Theo,"  Lurgau  said  hastily,  "be 
a  little  decent  to  Alice,  can't  you?  She  really 
is  an  awfully  good  sort.  She  hasn't  any  of  those 
aggressive  Yankeeisms  that  we  are  always  hear- 
ing about.  She  is  a  credit  to  this  house,  and 
Heaven  knows  she  has  put  a  prop  under  it. ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  am  going  to  be  decent  to  her — quite  ! 
I  think  she  is  beautiful,  and  really  looks  very 
ladylike.  A  great  many  of  those  American 
women  do.  They  say  it  is  their  adaptability, 
that  they  have  a  regular  trick  of  apiug  every- 
thing they  see.  Now  I  do  not  doubt  myself  that 
your  new  wife  will  presently  be  more  British 
than  the  queen  herself,  who,  poor  old  lady,  is 
mostly  German  after  all.  Don't  you  fear.  I 
intend  to  be  nice  to  the  new  Lady  Lurgan.  She 
is  going  to  have  a  big  house  in  town,  and  do  a 


HER   LADYSHIP.  83 

lot  of  entertaining,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  of 
course,  eh ?  Now  our  ship  has  cotne  in?  " 

' '  I  suppose  so. ' ' 

"  It  isn't  poor  little  me  who  is  likely  to  disturb 
her  peace." 

' '  Do  not  go  hinting  about  in  that  beastly 
fashion,"  I^urgan  said  impatiently. 

"  Hinting  about  what  ?  "  his  cousin  asked  in- 
nocently ;  but  I/urgan  only  looked  into  the  fire 
and  said  nothing. 

As  Alice  and  Lady  I^urgan  went  up  stairs,  the 
young  girl  could  only  notice  with  delight  the 
beautiful  old  tapestries  and  carvings  everywhere. 
In  the  turn  of  the  stair  was  a  beautiful  Hoppner 
portrait  of  some  dead  and  gone  I^ady  Lurgan  sur- 
rounded by  her  four  children.  Just  across  was  a 
L,awrence  of  a  beautiful  curly  haired  boy.  The 
dowager  stopped. 

"  These  are  some  pictures  which  we  have  just 
been  able  to  buy  back,"  she  said  pleasantly. 
' '  When  Algernon  was  at  Oxford,  he  was  so  ex- 
pensive, and  our  income  was  so  small,  that  we 
sold  these  pictures  when  he  came  of  age,  with  a 
number  of  others.  Fortunately,  these  two  came 
into  the  market  again  about  the  time  he  became 
engaged  to  you,  and  knowing  that  he  would  be 
able  to  afford  to  keep  the  portraits  of  his  ancestors 
now,  and  that  you,  being  an  American,  would 
attach  peculiar  value  to  them,  I  bought  them 


84  HER   LADYSHIP. 

back.  I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  get  the  others 
as  time  goes  by. ' ' 

"Thank  you,"  Alice  said  faintly.  "They 
are  beautiful. ' ' 

' '  Particularly  the  Lawrence.  It  is  my  hus- 
band's grandfather.  He  was  killed  at  twenty 
eight  in  a  duel  in  France,  after  he  had  eloped 
with  his  friend's  wife.  The  earth  was  rid  of  a 
scoundrel  when  he  left  it,"  Lady  Lurgan  said 
pleasantly  as  she  passed  on.  ' '  I  used  to  think 
Algernon  looked  like  him  when  he  was  a  boy, 
but  he  is  more  like  my  people  now." 

Alice  gave  a  little  shudder  which  reached  from 
her  shoulders  to  her  heart.  There  was  the  same 
shape  of  eye  and  forehead'  in  the  pretty  boy, 
with  his  curls,  as  she  saw  in  her  husband's  face. 
She  tried  to  wonder  what  her  own  great  grand- 
father had  been  like.  She  was  sure,  at  any  rate, 
that  he  had  not  been  killed  in  a  duel. 

"Here  are  your  rooms.  I  hope  you  will  like 
them.  Lurgan  had  a  man  come  up  from  London 
and  do  them  over  for  you.  Where  is  your 
maid?" 

"  I  told  her  she  could  get  a  cup  of  tea.  She 
has  had  a  headache  all  day. ' ' 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  a  little  lax,  my  dear," 
Lady  Lurgan  said  patronizingly.  "Is  she  an 
American  ?  I  hear  they  always  have  the  head- 
ache. I  would  advise  you  to  get  a  good  Eng- 


HER   LADYSHIP.  85 

lish  woman  at  once.  I  will  attend  to  it  for 
you." 

"Thank  you,"  Alice  replied  sharply.  .  "I 
think  I  will  keep  the  maid  I  have.  I  have  had 
her  some  time.  She  is  accustomed  to  my  ways, 
and  although  she  is  French,  she  is  welcome  to 
have  a  headache  now  and  then." 

"  My  dear,  I  am  afraid  you  have  a  temper," 
L,ady  L,urgan  said.  "  Rest  a  while,  and  then  put 
on  one  of  your  pretty  American  gowns  and  come 
down.  We  dine  at  eight. ' ' 

Alice  took  the  long  pins  from  her  hat,  flung  it 
on  the  bed,  and  then,  without  taking  off  her 
coat,  dropped  into  a  chair  before  the  fire. 

This  was  "home"  ! 


X. 


"  HTHERE  is  one  thing  I  plainly  see,  Algy," 
Lady  Fortescue  said,  one  morning  six 
weeks  later.  She  had  been  over  to  the  Mediter- 
ranean, and  had  been  suddenly  called  back  by 
the  illness  of  her  husband.  Neither  that  nor  his 
recovery  had  dimmed  her  color.  ' '  That  is,  that 
your  wife  is  going  to  settle  down  into  a  pony 
chaise. ' ' 

Lady  Fortescue  herself  had  no  suggestion  of 
pony  chaises  about  her.  She  had  ridden  over,  and 
while  her  habit  had  a  splash  here  and  there,  her 
shoulders  were  too  broad  and  her  waist  too  nar- 
row to  give  any  suggestion  of  rural  lanes.  She 
was  sitting  on  a  wooden  bench  in  the  window  of 
the  harness  room  at  Salby  Chase,  where  Lurgan 
had  a  desk  in  which  he  kept  pipes  and  French 
novels.  He  had  been  looking  at  her  with  the 
admiration  he  had  always  felt  for  her,  which,  if 
it  had  not  been  always  respectful,  was  at  least 
quite  genuine. 

"She  is  spending  her  time,  I  hear,  going 
about  like  some  new  Lady  Bountiful  with  gifts 
in  her  hand.  I  hear  that  the  tenantry  stand 
85 


HER  LADYSHIP.  87 

with  '  God  bless  you's  '  on  their  lips,  their  hats 
in  one  hand  and  the  other  outstretched,  when- 
ever she  goes  by." 

"What  nonsense  !     This  isn't  a  comic  opera." 

"No?" 

' '  Alice  amuses  herself  by  giving  some  toys  to 
the  children,  I  believe.  It  is  rather  silly,  but  if 
it  amuses  her,  I  do  not  see  that  it  is  anybody's 
business. ' ' 

"Certainly  none  of  mine,"  said  Theo  cheer- 
fully. ' '  But  I  thought  that  all  the  children 
about  here  had  dolls,  and  that  they  were  all 
dressed  in  black,  with  neat  collars  and  cuffs." 

' '  Oh,  stuff  ! ' '  Then,  catching  her  eye,  his  own 
grew  reckless.  ' '  They  have  had  time  to  wear  out. 
The  youngsters  probably  need  a  new  supply. ' ' 

' '  And  Alice  is  giving  them  out  this  time.  But 
I  have " 

' '  Excuse  me,  Theo, ' '  I^urgan  said  with  some 
resentment,  ' '  but  I  do  not  want  to  hear  any- 
thing more.  The  neighborhood  must  have  some- 
thing to  gossip  about,  I  suppose,  but  I  do  not 
believe  that  it  is  as  full  of  one  subject  as  you 
would  have  me  believe.  Because  a  man  tells  a 
woman  a  thing  in  a  fit  of  weakness,  there  is  no 
reason  why  she  should  never  let  up  on  it.  That 
old  story  is  dead  and  buried.  Let  me — and  the 
rest — go  in  peace.  We  have  both  forgotten  it." 

"  If  that  is  true,  what  are  some  of  the  '  other 


88  HER  LADYSHIP. 

people  '  doing  here  at  your  very  gates,  instead 
of  in  some  other  part  of  the  country?  " 

"  If  you  are  talking  about  the  Chase  Cottage, 
it  has  been  empty  these  months." 

' '  Ever  since  your  marriage  ? ' ' 

"Yes." 

"But "  I/ady  Theo  began  to  speak,  and 

then  she  laughed.  A  new  idea  had  struck  her. 
"  Forgive  my  teasing,  Algy.  You  know  I  never 
could  help  it.  You  are  so  good  never  to  strike 
back.  Is  Alice  at  home  ?  I  will  run  in  to  see 
her  ; ' '  and  she  turned  at  the  door  and  gave  her 
cousin  a  smile  which  made  him  smile  back  with 
half  closed  eyes,  and  wonder  what  Theo  was 
"up  to." 

He  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  need  never 
fear  that  she  would  betray  his  confidence.  He 
had  tried  her  too  often  for  that,  and  she  was  not 
the  woman  to  endanger  the  order  of  his  house- 
hold by  betraying  anything  unpleasant  to  his 
wife.  But  he  knew  that  there  were  things  Theo 
had  never  forgiven  him,  and  that  she  might  slip  a 
rose  leaf  here  and  there  under  his  bed  of  down, 
to  give  him  an  uneasy  half  hour.  It  was  al- 
together probable  that  she  had  one  in  her  hand 

now,  and  had  started  off  to  Alice He  arose  to 

follow  her,  and  then,  realizing  that  that  was 
probably  what  she  wanted  him  to  do,  he  went 
back  and  sat  down  to  his  pipe  and  his  novel. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  89 

It  was  a  day  of  contentment  with  him.  Just 
that  day  he  had  paid  his  last  debt,  and  he  had 
no  present  necessity  for  making  any  new  ones. 
He  gave  the  large  and  pleased  sigh  of  a  man 
whose  conscience  is  at  rest.  He  was  going  up  to 
I,ondon  in  a  few  weeks  more,  to  stay  through 
the  season,  with  a  great  establishment,  with  a 
place  in  the  world  which  he  had  never  had  be- 
fore. He  was  married  to  a  lovely  young  girl,  and 
the  whole  world  knew  that  she  had  brought  him 
a  large  fortune.  He  would  not  ruffle  his  temper 
by  going  in  there  to  be  made  into  a  shuttlecock 
for  Theo  to  fling  back  and  forth  for  her  amuse- 
ment. He  could  afford  to  be  content. 

L,ady  Fortescue  had  not  far  to  go.  Alice  was 
in  her  own  little  sitting  room,  writing  letters, 
and  tying  up  some  packages.  She  looked  up, 
glad  to  see  her  visitor,  for,  while  her  husband's 
cousin  was  not  particularly  attractive  to  her,  she 
still  kept  the  girlish  nature  which  made  her  enjoy 
a  visit,  and  she  found  I^ady  Theo's  ideas  of 
America  very  amusing. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said  cordially.  "  I  have  just 
finished  a  letter  to  my  young  sister." 

"  Is  she  also  3rour  father's  daughter?  " 

"Yes.     We  have  different  mothers." 

' '  And  your  co-heiress  ?  ' ' 

"We  never  think  of  it  exactly  in  that  way. 
You  may  see  them  over  this  year.  Mother 


90  HER   LADYSHIP. 

lias  just  written  to  ask  about  a  house.  She  says 
that  father  misses  rne  very  much,  and  wishes  to 
come  over  for  the  season." 

"Ah  !  "  Lady  For  tescue  said  with  considerable 
emphasis.  ' '  I  advise  you  to  speak  to  Aunt 
Cecilia  upon  the  subject.  Doubtless  she  could 
find  exactly  the  house  that  you  want,  or  that 
your  father  wants.  Is  he  very  fond  of  society, 
going  about,  and  all  that  ?  ' ' 

"Not  at  all,  but  mother  is,"  Alice  answered 
innocently.  "  I  think  she  would  enjoy  a  London 
season  very  much." 

Already  Alice  was  beginning  to  see  that  she 
and  America  were  objects  of  curiosity  to  these 
people,  that  their  habits  of  mind  and  ways  of 
thought  were  entirely  different  from  her  own  ; 
but  she  felt  a  certain  security  in  the  thought  of 
her  stepmother.  Mrs.  Sanderson  would  know 
how  to  manage  them  all.  She  even  had  visions' 
of  conflicts  between  her  mother  and  Lady  Lur- 
gan,  and  she  could  see  the  suave  way  in  which 
Mrs.  Sanderson  would  inevitably  come  off  victor. 

"  Doubtless  she  would,"  Lady  Fortescue  said. 
' '  Speak  to  my  aunt  about  the  house.  By  the 
way,  I  hear  you  are  going  in  for  charities  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing." 

Alice's  face  flushed.  "  Not  charities.  I  feel 
sorry  for  some  of  these  poor  people.  They  seem 
to  have  so  little  spirit  to  do  anything  for  them- 


HER  LADYSHIP.  91 

selves.  They  are  different  from  Americans 
in  that  way.  It  is  pitiful  to  see  how  grateful 
they  are  for  the  least  little  thing.  You  know 
our  poor  people — at  least  those  who  live  in  the 

country "  But  Lady  Fortescue  did  not  let 

her  finish  her  sentence. 

"  By  the  way,"  she  said  in  off  hand  fashion, 
as  she  whipped  a  fleck  of  dust  from  her  skirt. 
"You  have  a  rival  in  charities  on  this  estate. 
All  that  sort  of  thing  has  been  supposed  to 
belong  to  Mrs.  Welles." 

"  I  do  not  remember  her,"  Alice  replied.  "Is 
she  somebody  I  ought  to  know  ?  " 

' '  If  you  mean  is  she  some  one  who  has  called 
here,  no.  I  believe  my  aunt  has  never  thought 
her  worth  calling  upon.  She  lived  until  lately  in 
one  of  the  cottages  on  the  estate,  but  she  went 
away  about  the  time  that  you  were  married.  I 
heard  today,  however,  that  she  had  come  back  to 
this  part  of  the  county,  and  had  taken  a  place  a 
mile  or  two  away.  She  had  a  pony  carriage,  and 
used  to  do  a  great  deal  of  village  visiting.  Not 
exactly  of  the  county  families,  you  know,  but 
interesting.  Oh,  yes — very  interesting.  She 
used  to  wear  black  always,  so  I  suppose  she  was  a 
widow.  It  used  to  look  just  a  trifle  theatrical 
to  me." 

"  Black  doesn't  sound  very  theatrical." 

' '  Oh,    yes,    it   does — with  white   collars   and 


92  HER   LADYSHIP. 

cuffs.  Mrs.  Pat  Campbell  has  worn  it  in  some 
of  her  characters  until  you  begin  to  have  an  un- 
pleasant association  with  the  costume.  But  Mrs. 
Welles  did  the  work  you  are  doing  now." 

' '  I  suppose  I  shall  meet  her, ' '  Alice  said 
placidly.  ' '  The  cottages  are  all  huddled  to- 
gether. They  are  horrible  little  places.  I  am 
going  to  suggest  pulling  them  down,  and  putting 
up  some  nice,  dry,  light  American  houses  for  the 
tenants." 

"With  bath  tubs  and  all  that,  I  suppose.  My 
dear  cousin,  if  you  are  going  to  begin  to  rip  up 
the  traditions  of  Salby  Chase,  it  is  time  for  me 
to  be  going.  I  might  have  known  that  your 
American  enterprise  would  come  out  in  some 
fashion  ;  "  and  Lady  Fortescue  went  laughing 
toward  her  aunt's  rooms,  highly  delighted  with 
her  morning's  work. 

"  I  am  simply  wild  to  see  how  they  will  stop 
her  if  she  takes  a  fancy  to  the  charming  Mrs. 
Welles,"  she  said  to  herself  with  hilarity. 

On  the  stairs  she  ran  full  into  Captain  Innis, 
who  was  on  his  way  to  the  rooms  of  his  sister  in 
law,  and  stopped  to  speak  to  him.  These  two 
had  a  decided  liking  for  each  other,  but  often 
they  talked  to  each  other  as  if  they  were  playing 
a  game  in  which  each  might  expect  a  check- 
mate at  any  moment. 

"See  here,  Theo,"  the  captain  said,  "I  hear 


HER  LADYSHIP.  93 

that  that  confounded  woman  is  back.  What  is  to 
be  done  about  it  ?  " 

' '  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should  write  a  letter 
to  the  Times  and  ask  what  she  meant  by  it," 
Theo  said  seriously,  and  then,  smiling  brilliantly, 
went  on  down  stairs.  She  called  back  at  the 
next  landing : 

"  I  shouldn't  tell  the  family  that,  if  I  were 
you." 


XI. 


T  T  was  only  two  days  after  her  talk  with  L,ady 
Theo  that  Alice  came  upon  Mrs.  Welles. 
Most  of  the  tenants  of  the  estate  lived  together 
in  a  village  about  a  mile  from  Salby,  which  con- 
sidered itself  a  town  ;  but  away  beyond  that,  on 
the  other  side  of  what  was  known  as  the  Home 
Farm,  was  a  house  which  had  once  been  a  farm 
house,  but  which  had  gradually  deteriorated 
with  the  decay  of  the  land  about  it.  Money  had 
been  needed  for  drainage  and  improvements,  and 
the  landlords  had  not  been  willing  to  spend  it ; 
but  the  family  which  had  leased  the  place  for 
generations  had  stuck  to  it  with  that  tenacity 
which  is  at  once  the  foundation  of  England 
and  the  origin  of  some  of  her  great  mistakes. 
They  had  grown  poorer  and  poorer  every  year, 
and  the  present  tenant  was  a  poor  wreck  of  a 
creature  with  a  houseful  of  sickly  children,  who 
appealed  to  Alice  more  than  all  the  others  on  the 
estate.  She  was  in  a  fair  way  to  spoil  them  by 
her  own  pleasure  in  giving  them  toys  and  com- 
forts of  which  they  had  never  dreamed. 

She  had  ridden   there  through  the  fields  and 
94 


HER   LADYSHIP.  95 

lanes,  with  a  groom  behind  her.  There  was  a 
road,  but  the  groom  was  teaching  her  to  leap 
fences,  and  she  took  them  on  the  road  by  way 
of  practice.  When  she  turned  the  corner  of  the 
tumbledown  house,  she  was  surprised  to  see, 
standing  by  the  door,  a  smart  little  dog  cart 
with  a  tiny  groom  at  the  horse's  head.  For  a 
moment  she  hesitated  about  going  in.  But  the 
eldest  daughter  and  housekeeper  of  Jennings 
came  breathlessly  to  the  door. 

"Excuse  me,  my  lady,"  she  said,  all  in  oiie 
breath,  "  but  Jimmie's  took  bad  with  ashma,  my 
lady,  and  I'm  sendin'  Mrs.  Welles'  gentleman 
for  Dr.  Sydney,  my  lady."  The  child,  hardly 
fourteen,  looked  in  frightened  longing  at  Turner 
on  the  big  gray  horse.  Alice,  slipping  from  her 
saddle,  sent  him  for  the  doctor  in  Salby,  and 
went  into  the  house. 

A  young  woman,  who  was  almost  plain  of  face, 
except  for  an  expression  of  habitual  good  humor, 
sat  by  the  bed  and  held  up  a  shriveled  little  boy 
on  her  arm.  The  noise  of  the  child's  painful 
breathing  could  be  heard  all  through  the  room, 
and  his  miserable  little  face  was  distorted  with 
the  pain  every  respiration  caused  him. 

' '  What  can  I  do  ?  "  Alice  asked  helplessly. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  do,"  the  young  woman 
answered  cheerfully,  "  except  to  wait  until  Dr. 
Sydney  comes.  They  never  keep  any  medicine 


96  HER   LADYSHIP. 

in  the  house.  I  think  they  all  take  it  after  the 
boy  gets  over  an  attack.  It  isn't  as  bad  as  it 
looks.  The)7  never  die."  She  looked  at  Alice 
keenly,  with  a  rather  shrewd  but  not  unkind  look 
in  her  gray  eyes.  "You  are  I^ady  Lurgan,  I 
suppo.se.  I  ain  Mrs.  Welles,"  she  said  simply, 
as  if  she  supposed  that  Mrs.  Welles  was  as  well 
known  as  Lady  Lurgan.  She  was  not  familiar, 
but  she  spoke  with  the  perfect  assurance  of  an 
equal. 

Involuntarily  Alice  wondered  why  Theo  had 
said  that  Mrs.  Welles  always  wore  black,  with 
white  collars  and  cuffs.  Today  her  dress  was  a 
pretty  gray,  with  a  bunch  of  early  violets  in  her 
bosom.  She  had  thrown  her  hat  off,  and  her 
thick  reddish  brown  hair  was  piled  up  in  a  loose 
bronze  knot  on  top  of  her  head. 

' '  Is  it  true  that  it  is  not  dangerous  ?  ' '  Alice 
asked  again.  Her  cheeks  had  grown  pale  at  the 
distressing  sounds.  The  elder  sister  had  gone 
out. 

"Oh,  quite,  I  believe,  at  least  as  an  acute 
disease.  He  will  die — eventually,  but  so  will  the 
rest  of  us.  But  it  hurts  the  poor  little  chap. 
He  oughtn't  to  live  in  this  damp  place  ;  but  I 
suppose  it  is  too  much  to  expect  it  to  be  drained 
on  his  account.  It  would  be  easier  to  take  him 
away." 

' '  Would  that  cure  him  ? ' ' 


HER  LADYSHIP.  97 

"I  am  sure  I  do  uot  know.  Please  do  not 
think  I  am  beginning  to  beg  of  you  already, 
Lady  Lurgan.  I  am  thinking  of  sending  the 
little  fellow  off  on  my  own  account.  It  isn't 
that  I  am  so  fond  of  him,  but  I  hate  to  see  any- 
body suffer — physically.  It  annoys  me.  It 
turns  my  blood,  as  they  used  to  say  in  my  part 
of  the  country." 

A  few  minutes  later,  when  the  doctor  came,  he 
looked  at  the  two  women  with  some  curiosity, 
and  all  the  time  he  was  bending  over  his  little 
patient  a  wrinkle  of  wonder  stood  between  his 
eyes.  He  had  met  Mrs.  Welles  before,  but  this 
was  the  first  time  he  had  come  in  contact  with 
the  young  American  wife  of  the  earl,  and  he  was 
astonished  to  find  them  there  together.  He 
wondered  if  a  London  rumor  he  had  heard  could 
be  true,  and  he  also  wondered  at  the  ways  of 
Americans. 

Alice  felt  that  in  some  sort  Mrs.  Welles  had 
been  introduced  to  her  by  Lady  Fortescue's 
chance  remarks,  and  when  they  came  out  of  the 
little  house,  Mrs.  Welles  to  her  dog  cart,  and 
Alice  to  mount  her  hunter,  she  said  so. 

' '  Lady  Portescue  told  me  that  I  should  find 
you  a  rival  in  my  cottages,"  she  remarked. 

There  was  no  sign  of  a  start  or  change  of  color 
in  Mrs.  Welles'  face,  but  she  stared  back  in 
friendly  fashion  into  Alice's  face.  If  she  was 


98  HER  LADYSHIP. 

surprised  at  Lady  Fortescue's  meution  of  her 
name,  and  had  any  curiosity  concerning  its  in- 
troduction, she  made  no  sign  of  any  sort,  but 
gathered  up  her  reins  with  entire  calmness. 

' '  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  Lady 
Fortescue,"  she  said  in  a  most  matter  of  fact 
tone,  as  if  her  failure  to  know  that  lady  was  due 
entirely  to  the  slightest  of  accidents.  "I  live 
very  quietly  down  here.  I  did  not  know  that 
she  even  knew  my  name.  But  I  assure  you, 
Lady  Lurgan,  I  am  no  rival  of  yours.  It  is  you 
that  have  been  mine.  I  was  first  in  the  field  ;  ' ' 
and  with  a  word  to  her  boy,  who  sprang  lightty 
up  behind,  and  a  nod  to  Alice,  she  drove  rapidly 
down  the  muddy  road  toward  the  sea. 

After  a  moment's  adjustment  of  her  habit, 
Alice  trotted  slowly  along  the  same  way.  There 
was  a  fine  beach  here.  The  sun  was  brilliant  on 
it  this  spring  day,  and  as  Alice  looked  over  the 
water  a  pang  of  remembrance  came  to  her  which 
sent  the  blood  surging  into  her  heart,  and  made 
her  hold  tightlj'  to  the  strap  at  the  side  of  her 
saddle.  She  seemed  to  see  the  blue  expanse  of 
Lake  Michigan  before  her,  and  to  walk  once 
again  along  its  borders,  with  Chris  Batterman  by 
her  side.  She  never  allowed  him  to  come  into 
her  mind.  She  put  him  resolutely  away  from 
her,  as  one  who  was  buried  far  out  of  sight,  one 
whom  it  would  be  a  crime  to  remember ;  but  the 


HER  LADYSHIP.  99 

sunlit  face  of  the  sea  was  like  a  picture  which 
had  been  long  turned  to  the  wall,  and  memory 
took  possession.  In  that  moment  she  knew  that, 
hide  it  as  she  would  from  her  own  consciousness, 
Batterman  was  always  there.  The  remembrance 
of  him  was  woven  into  the  very  fiber  of  her 
being.  He  was  always  with  her.  The  little 
lamp  which  sometimes  illumines  our  very  inmost 
depths  showed  her  Chris,  Chris,  always  Chris. 
She  measured  everything  and  everybody  by  his 
standards,  as  she  knew  them,  and  every  act  of 
her  life  was  something  that  some  day  he  might 
know. 

She  was  young,  and  she  longed  to  be  happy. 
Tears  of  self  pity  came  up  into  her  eyes  and  ran 
down  her  cheeks.  She  had  never  heard  from 
Batterman,  nor  of  him,  since  that  day  at  the 
church  door.  She  remembered  how  pale  he 
had  looked.  She  knew  he  was  not  dead,  for 
Connie  would  have  written  that.  The  tempta- 
tion came  to  her  to  write  to  Connie  and  ask 
about  him  ;  but  no,  she  could  not  let  her  father 
and  mother  know  that  she  still  thought  of  him. 
She  struck  her  horse  a  sudden  blow,  and  went 
rapidly  inland  towards  the  Chase. 

It  was  tea  time  when  she  came  in,  and  she 
found  her  husband  and  mother  in  the  hall  room, 
in  what  appeared  to  have  been  an  excited  dis- 
cussion. Both  faces  were  flushed  ;  Lurgan  had 


TOO  HER  LADYSHIP. 

his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  was  standing 
sulkily  before  the  fire.  He  had  just  come  in 
from  the  golf  links,  and  Alice  thought  with  dis- 
taste that  he  did  not  look  quite  like  a  gentleman 
in  his  rough  clothes.  His  hair  was  too  flat  upon 
his  head,  and  his  eyes  too  near  together. 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  been  his  wife 
he  did  not  greet  her  pleasantty,  but  merely  gave 
her  a  gruff  word  and  a  nod.  The  whole  atmos- 
phere was  one  of  suspended  thunder.  Alice  sat 
down  by  the  tea  table  with  a  depressed  air.  A 
family  quarrel  seemed  such  a  dreadful  thing  to 
her.  It  was  something  in  which  she  would  not 
dare  to  take  a  wife's  part.  The  dowager  Lady 
Lurgan  was  still  mistress  of  this  house.  But  she 
might  try  to  disperse  the  clouds. 

"  I  am  frightfully  hungry  after  my  trot,"  she 
said.  "I  do  not  believe  I  am  ever  going  to 
really  enjoy  a  trotting  horse.  I  was  taught  to 
ride  on  a  galloping  Mexican  pony. ' ' 

Lady  Lurgan  suddenly  took  up  the  tea  pot. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  that  was  dry 
and  hard,  "  this  tea  is  perfectly  cold,  and  as  you 
are  so  tired  and  hungry,  I  will  have  a  little 
luncheon  and  some  hot  tea  sent  up  to  your  own 
room.  I  am  sure  you  want  to  get  out  of  that 
uncomfortable  habit." 

And  hardly  knowing  how  it  had  happened, 
Alice  found  herself  going  up  the  stairs  like  a 


HER  LADYSHIP.  101 

child  that  had  been  sent  out  of  the  way  in 
order  that  the  elders  might  talk  without  the  em- 
barrassment of  its  presence.  She  heard  the 
echoes  of  the  quarrel  before  she  passed  out  of 
hearing. 

"  I  tell  you  I  won't  have  that  meddlesome  old 
idiot  on  the  place,"  Lurgan  was  saying  vehe- 
mently. ' '  My  affairs  are  my  own.  What  right 
has  he  here?  " 

"No  particular  right,  except  that  he  has 
saved  you  from  destruction  more  than  once 
already,  and  that  he  is  still  heir  presumptive  to 
this  title  and  estate." 

But  the  quarrels  of  even  her  husband  and  his 
mother  did  not  disturb  Alice  for  long.  She 
thought  of  her  day,  and  of  her  new  acquaintance. 
She  decided  that  Mrs.  Welles  was  a  good  deal 
like  an  American  woman,  with  less  constraint  in 
one  way,  and  not  so  great  a  lack  of  it  in  others, 
as  some  of  the  English  women.  She  was  glad  to 
know  her. 

Alice  dressed  leisurely,  and  did  not  go  down 
until  almost  dinner  time.  She  found  her  hus- 
band's mother  already  in  the  drawing  room.  The 
dowager  was  generally  the  first  of  the  family 
down  stairs,  and  had  a  neat  little  pile  of  books 
upon  the  sociological  questions  which  the  various 
physicians  of  the  world's  morals  and  manners 
attempt  to  solve.  But  she  was  reading  none  of 


102  HER  LADYSHIP. 

these  now.  As  Alice  came  in,  she  arose,  and 
walked  the  length  of  the  room  and  back  again. 
She  was  a  domineering  and  a  rather  tactless 
woman,  and  she  had  something  to  say. 

"Alice,"  she  said,  "I  hear  that  you  met  a 
woman,  a  Mrs.  Welles,  in  one  of  the  farm  houses 
today.  I  must  ask  you  never  to  speak  to  her  or 
recognize  her  in  any  way  again." 

The  tone  brought  a  flush  to  the  face  of  her 
daughter  in  law,  and  into  her  eyes  a  look  which 
Lady  Lurgan  had  never  seen  there  before.  After 
a  second's  pause,  the  girl  asked,  "  Why  ?  " 

' '  She  is  not  of  our  class  at  all.  She  does  not 
belong  here.  She  is  not  recognized. ' ' 

"  Pardon  me,  Lady  Lurgan,"  Alice  said,  "  but 
I  cannot  consider  that  a  reason  for  not  speaking 
to  Mrs.  Welles.  I  saw  her  today,  kind  hearted, 
generous,  ready  to  help  in  an  emergency.  She 
may  not  belong  to  your  social  class,  but  I  have 
known  a  great  many  people  who  did  not.  I 
certainly  should  not  refuse  to  recognize  them 
upon  that  account." 

' '  She  is  a  woman  with  a  past — with  a  bad 
character." 

"Yet  I  understand  that  Mrs.  Bingham,  the 
rector's  wife,  visits  her  and  goes  about  with  her." 

"Mrs.  Bingham "  Lady  Lurgan  laughed. 

' '  Mrs.  Bingham  is  half  saint  and  half  fool.  She 
never  believes  anything  she  does  not  see. ' ' 


HER  LADYSHIP.  103 

"  I  am  neither  one  nor  the  other,"  Alice  said, 
"  but  I  believe  I  am  a  little  obstinate.  I  shall 
continue  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Welles  when  I  meet 
her,  and  I  shall  not  avoid  her. ' ' 

"  If  you  do,"  Lady  Lurgan  returned,  with 
something  like  fury,  "you  will  make  a  scandal 
in  this  county." 

She  caught  her  own  words,  but  Alice  had 
risen  to  her  feet,  her  face  white. 

"Lady  Lurgau,  what  do  you  mean?"  she 
demanded. 

But  her  husband's  mother  had  control  of  her- 
self. ' '  Only  that  they  will  say  that  we  have 
allowed  you  to  make  acquaintances  you  should 
never  have  made." 

' '  Speaking  to  this  woman,  however  bad  she 
may  once  have  been,  cannot  hurt  me.  She  is 
evidently  repentant. ' ' 

' '  Repentant  ! ' '  Lady  Lurgan  flung  the  word 
out  with  scorn.  "Repentant!  She?  She 
amuses  herself  !  She  is  here  to  annoy  us." 

' '  What  is  she  to  us?"  There  was  pride  in 
Alice's  voice. 

' '  Nothing  !  She  shall  not  become  so  by  mak- 
ing you  speak  to  her.  You  must  not. ' ' 

"I  shall  ask  my  husband  to  tell  me  why 
before  I  answer  you, ' '  Alice  said. 


XII. 

A  LICE  went  up  stairs  with  her  mind  astir 
**•  with  that  vague  jealousy  which  has  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  affection.  It  was  merely 
her  sense  of  dignity  that  was  irritated  ;  but  per- 
haps the  sensation  was  all  the  stronger.  All  the 
social  philosophers  and  sages  to  the  contrary,  it 
is  not  the  people  who  are  ' '  in  love ' '  with  each 
other  who  are  jealous.  Their  minds  are  filled 
up.  They  have  the  confidence  that  comes  of  per- 
fect understanding.  It  is  the  woman  who  sees 
herself  in  danger  of  losing  something  she  once 
owned  who  is  jealous. 

"  To  annoy  us,"  she  said  over  to  herself.  "  A 
woman  with  a  past — a  bad  character  ;  "  and  her 
cheeks  flamed.  She  was  young,  and  almost  ab- 
nornially  innocent,  but  there  were  some  things 
she  quite  comprehended.  A  wave  of  disgust  and 
dislike  swept  across  her  at  the  thought  of  her 
husband,  and  then  that,  too,  left  its  reaction,  and 
she  wondered  if  she  were  quite  doing  him  jus- 
tice. She  really  knew  nothing ;  almost  intui- 
tively, and  not  at  all  according  to  facts,  she  was 
taking  a  black  view  of  the  man  she  had  married. 
104 


HER  LADYSHIP.  105 

As  she  developed  from  the  care  free  girl  of  a 
few  months  ago  into  the  woman  who  felt  burdens 
upon  her  shoulders,  Alice  had  found  herself  in 
possession  of  that  dominating  composite  Ameri- 
can conscience  which  belongs  particularly  to  the 
women  of  the  mixed  blood  of  her  native  land. 
Her  husband,  she  decided,  was  the  one  to  tell 
her  this  story.  Then  she  felt  the  prick  of  that 
unsleeping  monitor.  Wasn't  she  asking  him  be- 
cause she  doubted  him?  Her  thought  ran  swifter 
than  her  control.  If  it  had  been  Chris,  would 
she  have  asked  him?  Wouldn't  she  have  con- 
sidered it  an  insult? 

' '  It  would  have  been,  because  anything  dis- 
honorable would  have  been  untrue  !  "  She  an- 
swered herself  aloud,  and  then  hid  her  face  in 
shame.  Would  she  never  get  this  life  away  from 
the  old  one?  "  I  will  ask  him,"  she  said  obsti- 
nately. ' '  I  will  ask  him,  because  it  is  my  right 
to  know  what  his  mother  meant." 

No  opportunity  came,  however,  that  evening. 
L,ife  in  a  great  house  like  Salby  Chase  had  many 
conventionalities,  and  Alice  found  herself  carried 
along  in  their  grasp.  A  neighbor  or  two  came 
in  to  dine,  and  as  Alice  entered  the  drawing 
room  for  the  second  time,  she  encountered,  at 
the  door,  a  tall,  broad  shouldered  young  man 
with  sleek,  thick  brown  hair  parted  very  much  on 
one  side,  and  with  everything  about  him  sug- 


106  HER  LADYSHIP. 

gesting  blunt  strength  and  strong  individuality. 
He  looked  at  her  \vith  the  frankest  interest,  and 
bowing,  held  open  the  door  for  her  to  pass 
in.  lyUrgan,  who  was  talking  to  Sir  Thomas 
Creighton  at  the  fireplace,  vouchsafed  the  young 
man  a  nod  as  he  entered,  and  did  not  stir  ;  but 
Captain  Innis  walked  leisurely  forward,  gave 
him  a  limp  hand,  and  murmured  his  name  to 
Alice,  as  she  passed  forward.  It  sounded  to  her 
like  Weldon,  and  supposing  its  owner  to  be 
another  of  the  young  men  of  the  neighborhood, 
or  perhaps  a  relative,  she  gave  him  her  hand,  a 
pleasant  word  or  two,  and  walked  on  to  go  out  to 
dinner  with  Sir  Thomas.  But  she  presently 
found  that  the  stranger  was  beside  her  at  dinner. 

The  head  of  the  table  had  never  been  given  to 
her,  nor  had  she  desired  it.  L,ady  Lurgan  still 
sat  there  as  mistress  of  the  house. 

Sir  Thomas  was  one  of  the  men  who  mutely 
beg  not  to  be  disturbed  at  their  dinners.  Captain 
Innis,  his  nephew,  and  an  old  squire,  who  was 
the  third  guest,  were  soon  deep  in  an  animated 
discussion,  while  the  elder  Lady  L,urgan  sat  in 
gloomy  silence,  full  of  a  disapproval  which  Alice 
supposed  was  directed  toward  her.  It  had  the 
simple  effect  of  tightening  her  lips,  adding  a 
color  to  her  face,  and  bringing  a  hot  indignation 
to  her  heart.  She  was  so  much  occupied  with 
these  things  that  she  hardly  gave  a  moment's 


HER  I^ADYSHIP.  Toy 

thought  to  the  young  man  beside  her  until  he 
spoke. 

"  I  believe,  Lady  I,urgan,"  he  said,  "that  we 
have  met  before." 

"Yes?"  she  said  indifferently.  She  had  met 
a  great  many  Englishmen,  young  and  old,  in  the 
past  six  months,  and  they  had  made  generally  a 
short  impression  on  her. 

"In  Chicago." 

Alice  gave  a  start  which  was  almost  a  jump,  and 
a  wave  of  crimson  ran  over  her  face. 

"Chicago?" 

' '  Yes,  last  year.  Your  father  had  me  out  to 
build  his  picture  gallery,  and  see  that  it  was 
properly  lighted  and  all  that.  You  have  prob- 
ably forgotten  me." 

"  Oh,  you  are  Mr.  Belding.  Of  course — I  re- 
member." She  was  so  glad  to  hear  of  her  home, 
to  see  some  one  who  knew  it,  that  she  was  on  the 
point  of  putting  out  her  hand  to  shake  his,  but 
an  expression  which  she  saw  in  the  face  of  her 
husband's  mother  killed  the  impulse.  "And 
how  came  you  here?  "  Then,  realizing  that  it 
was  her  house  in  name,  she  grew  suddenly  em- 
barrassed. "  I  mean,  it  is  a  surprise  to  see  you 
here." 

"  Is  it  ?  I  have  been  flattering  myself  I  was 
here  because  you  remembered  me,  and  thought 
that  picture  gallery  such  a  good  piece  of  work. ' ' 


108  HUB.  LADYSHIP. 

"  We  did  think  it  quite  wonderful,  and  so  did 
every  one  in  Chicago,"  she  said  a  little  vaguely, 
but  he  went  on. 

' '  I  ain  rather  disappointed.  When  you  wrote 
me  and  told  me  to  come  down  here  and  look  the 
field  over,  and  see  what  must  be  done  about  the 
wings,  I  naturally  supposed  that  I  was  keeping 
an  old  customer,  as  the  shopkeepers  say. ' ' 

"  I  suppose  it  was  your  fame  generally," Alice 
said  lightly,  but  a  proud  pang  went  through  her 
heart.  They  were  going  to  build  wings  to  the 
house  ;  she  put  resolutely  away  from  herself  the 
consciousness  that  it  would  be  done  with  her 
money,  and  that  she  had  to  hear  the  story  from 
the  architect  merely  by  chance. 

"What  is  your  idea  for  this  style  of  house, 
Lady  Lurgan  ? — if  I  may  talk  shop  for  a  moment. 
I  had  a  photograph  and  a  plan  of  the  house  be- 
fore I  came  down,  and  have  drawn  something 
that  I  think  will  be  rather  good,  to  submit  to 
you." 

"  I  have  formed  no  ideas  upon  the  subject," 
Alice  said  bravely.  ' '  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see 
your  designs.  Were  you  in  Chicago  long  ? ' ' 

"Two  months.  I  was  at  my  uncle's  New 
York  house  when  I  was  called  out  to  attend  to 
the  picture  gallery.  I  intend  to  go  over  to 
New  York  every  year.  I  felt  as  if  England  was 
particularly  fortunate  when  I  heard  that  you 


HER  LADYSHIP.  109 

were  to  marry  I/>rd  lyUrgau.  Your  father  and 
mother  were  good  enough  to  send  me  cards  to 
57our  wedding.  And  what  has  become  of  that 
splendid  young  foster  brother  of  yours — wasn't 
he — Mr.  Batterman  ?  ' ' 

But  Alice  was  fortunately  saved  the  answering 
of  that  question  by  the  dowager,  who  came  in 
promptly  and  monopolized  the  conversation  for 
the  rest  of  the  dinner. 

When  they  went  into  the  drawing  room  again 
L,ady  Lurgan  walked  directly  toward  the  little 
table  where  her  books  were  piled,  and  sat  down 
to  them  without  a  word.  There  was  a  dis- 
agreeable expression  on  her  face,  one  that  aroused 
all  the  unpleasant  traits  of  Alice's  usually  pleas- 
ant nature. 

She  walked  through  the  long  rooms  once  or 
twice,  and  sat  down  near  a  corner  where  the  hot 
water  pipes  were  hidden  from  view  by  a  screen 
of  carving  and  heavy  gilding. 

' '  You  will  find  no  heat  there, ' '  I^ady  I^urgan 
said.  "I  gave  orders  this  morning  that  the 
pipes  were  not  to  be  heated  again.  The  house 
has  been  like  an  oven  lately.  The  open  fire  is 
quite  sufficient  to  dry  the  air." 

"  I  understand  from  Mr.  Belding  that  you  are 
contemplating  the  addition  of  wings  to  the  house, ' ' 
Alice  replied.  There  was  not  a  trace  of  sar- 
casm in  her  voice,  but  Lady  Lurgan  looked  at 


HO  HER  LADYSHIP. 

her  suspiciously.  "I  did  not  tell  him  that  the 
letter  he  received  from  you  was  not  from  me." 

"  It  is  an  addition  we  have  contemplated  for  a 
long  time,"  the  elder  lady  said  very  coolly. 
"  Since  you  have  spoken  of  Belding,  I  may  as 
well  mention  that  we  are  not  in  the  habit  of 
making  friends  of  our  workmen.  He  is  a  man  of 
respectable  manners  and  birth,  but  not  at  all  one 
of  us.  I  noticed  that  Sir  Thomas  looked  at  your 
effusion  over  him  with  some  amazement  this 
evening,  particularly  when  he  said  that  he  had 
been  invited  to  your  wedding.  It  gives  an 
erroneous  idea  of  your  position  in  America. ' ' 

The  last  words  were  spoken  with  something  of 
an  apologetic  tone,  for  Alice  had  risen  to  her 
feet.  Her  impulse  was  to  say,  ' '  You  are  the 
most  disagreeable  and  insolent  old  lady  I  ever 
met,  and  I  refuse  to  speak  to  you  for  another 
moment."  Fortunately  her  good  sense  came  to 
the  rescue,  and  although  her  breath  came  swiftly, 
she  sat  down. 

"Perhaps,  Lady  Ltirgan,"  she  said,  "you 
have  an  erroneous  idea  concerning  my  position — 
both  in  America  and  here.  We  had  for  our 
friends  there  such  people  as  we  cared  to  know. ' ' 

"I  am  sure  I  am  glad  to  hear  that.  Mrs. 
Leigh- Mayuard,  of  New  York,  gave  me  a  little 
different  idea,"  Lady  Lurgau  said  with  great 
suavity.  ' '  She  gave  me  to  understand  that  you 


HER  LADYSHIP.  Ill 

wanted  to  know  a  great  many  people  who  were 
unknown  to  you.  But  it  is  needless  to  prolong 
this  discussion,  my  dear.  Your  position  now  is 
that  of  your  husband  and  of  this  family.  You 
belong  to  us,  and  I  am  sure  your  good  sense  will 
tell  you  that  you  must  be  guided  by  the  rules 
under  which  we  live.  Whenever  you  are  in 
doubt,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  instruct  you;" 
and  Lady  Lurgan  took  up  her  book. 

Alice,  fairly  choking,  rose  and  went  to  the 
window.  She  could  see  the  terrace  shining  out- 
side in  the  pleasant  moonlight.  The  picture  was 
so  lovely  that  it  soothed  her  for  a  moment,  and 
calmed  the  hot  resentment  that  was  stirring 
ever}'  drop  of  her  blood  ;  but  she  drew  half  a 
dozen  long  breaths.  She  was  not  a  child  to  be 
browbeaten,  and  yet  she  felt  like  one.  She  felt  that 
she  should  know  exactly  how  to  take  her  proper 
position  with  that  old  woman.  She  had  begun 
all  wrong.  She  should  have  taken  the  reins 
in  the  beginning,  should  have  asserted  herself. 
She  turned  once  and  looked  back  at  her  sitting 
there,  calm,  self  possessed,  not  even  elated  over 
her  victory.  She  was  accustomed  to  victories. 

Indeed,  Lady  Ltirgan  had  no  sense  of  victory. 
She  felt  such  a  contempt  for  her  son's  wife  that 
she  put  her  aside  as  she  might  put  aside  any 
other  little  necessary  annoyance  of  her  life.  The 
sweeter  and  more  docile  the  girl  was,  the  less 


112  HER  LADYSHIP. 

she  respected  her.  She  looked  upon  her  as  a 
poor  spirited  foreigner,  ready  to  give  her  fortune, 
her  individuality,  and  herself  for  a  title  and  a 
position  in  the  world. 

A  sound  at  Alice's  elbow  made  her  turn  with 
a  smile  of  relief.  It  was  good  to  hear  a  hearty 
young  voice  which  was  ready  to  speak  of  home. 

"It  looks  pleasant  out  there,  doesn't  it?" 
Belding  said.  "That  distant  view  of  the  sea 
might  be  Lake  Michigan.  I  wonder  if  you 
Americans  who  come  over  here  are  ever  home- 
sick. I  beg  your  pardon,  Lady  Lurgan,"  he 
added  in  a  low  tone.  ' '  I  might  have  known 
that — oh,  please  do  not.  Forgive  me!"  Alice 
had  given  a  little  sob  that  was  not  much  more 
than  a  sigh,  but  it  had  touched  the  young  man 
with  an  electrical  thrill  of  understanding  which 
made  him  see  in  an  instant  how  much  his  words 
had  meant  to  her.  . 

' '  Never  mind, ' '  she  said.  ' '  Let  us  go  out  for  a 
moment. ' ' 

To  do  Alice  justice,  she  had  quite  forgotten 
that  Lady  Lurgan  had  just  asked  her  not  to 
make  a  friend  of  this  young  man.  She  forgot 
everything  except  that  she  must  not  let  her 
mother  in  law  or  the  rest  see  her  cry. 

Belding  softly  opened  the  window,  and  Lady 
Lurgan  looked  up  to  see  the  two  young  people 
walking  down  the  terrace  in  the  moonlight. 


XIII. 

OUT  if  Alice  went  out  to  hide  her  tears,  she 
was  far  from  successful.  She  had  not 
cried,  really  cried,  for  months,  and  the  pent  up 
emotion  was  like  one  of  those  floods  which  re- 
quire only  a  slight  loosening  of  the  wall  before 
them  to  sweep  away  every  barrier  and  spend 
themselves.  In  a  moment  after  reaching  the 
terrace  she  found  that  she  must  weep,  that  she  was 
powerless  to  control  herself,  and  she  remembered 
the  little  door  that  led  into  the  library  from  the 
garden.  She  could  not  stand  here  with  this 
strange  young  man,  however  sympathetic  he 
might  be.  She  must  get  to  her  own  room. 

Bewildered,  full  of  sympathy,  he  walked  be- 
side her,  dumb,  wondering. 

"There  is  a  door,"  she  managed  to  tell  him, 
' '  on  the  other  side  of  the  house.  Let  us  go 
there." 

They  walked  rapidly  along  in  the  sweet  white 
night.  The  air  was  full  of  the  thrill  of  spring, 
but  the  fresh  smell  of  the  grass,  the  incoming 
tide  of  life  that  was  thrilling  the  earth,  was  but 
a  new  cause  for  emotion  in  Alice.  It  seemed  as 
"3 


114  HER  LADYSHIP. 

if  the  earth  was  the  one  familiar  thing,  and  she 
longed  to  throw  herself  upon  it  and  ease  her 
heart.  All  the  time  she  was  filled  with  a  hor- 
rible embarrassment.  She  knew  instinctively 
that  this  young  man  would  not  betray  her,  but 
she  could  not  let  her  husband  or  her  husband's 
mother  know  of  her  breakdown. 

When  they  reached  the  door,  she  slipped  in, 
and  turned  to  Belding. 

"  I  will  be  back  in  a  moment.  Wait  for  me 
here." 

"Yes — come  back.  I  am  so  sorry,"  he  said. 
' '  You  will  find  me  here.  I  will  walk  along  this 
piece  of  shrubbery." 

I^ady  Lurgan,  the  elder,  sat  bolt  upright  in 
her  chair,  the  latest  of  the  unpleasant  books  open 
before  her,  but  not  an  argument  or  a  line  found 
comprehension  in  her  brain.  She  was  thinking 
what  she  should  say  to  her  son  when  he  came  in. 
She  would  not  hasten  him  at  all.  In  fact,  she 
rather  hoped  that  he  would  be  a  little  late  in 
coming  in  from  the  dining  room.  Then  her  op- 
portunity to  say  unpleasant  things  might  be 
strengthened. 

But  even  I^ady  L,urgan  grew  uneasy  before  the 
men  came  in.  She  went  once  to  the  window 
and  looked  out.  There  was  no  one  in  sight. 
The  terrace  was  empty.  It  was  almost  an  hour 
before  I/urgan,  his  uncle,  and  the  two  neighbors 


HER   LADYSHIP.  115 

came  in.  They  had  gone  into  the  harness  room 
and  looked  at  some  new  illustrations  of  their 
host's  theories  upon  various  equipments  for  the 
hunting  field,  and  the  time  had  slipped  away 
rapidly.  When  it  is  only  a  man's  wife  and 
mother  who  are  waiting  for  him,  he  can  usually 
find  excuses  for  not  hastening — at  least  when  he 
happens  to  be  of  I^urgan's  type. 

When  he  loafed  in  at  last,  in  a  capital  good 
humor,  he  looked  about  for  Alice,  and  asked  for 
her. 

' '  She  has  been  on  the  terrace  with  your  archi- 
tect for  the  past  hour, ' '  his  mother  said  calmly. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  Belding  is  telling  her  where  he 
is  going  to  put  on  his  additions, ' '  he  said  easily. 
To  him  Alice  was  a  certainty.  He  saw  no  par- 
ticular harm  in  her  going  out  on  the  terrace  if 
she  wished. 

' '  She  has  nothing  around  her,  and  I  think  it 
would  be  just  as  well  if  you  brought  her  in," 
I^ady  Lurgan  said,  in  a  tone  quite  as  indifferent 
as  his  own,  but  with  a  cool  quality  which  made 
her  son  look  at  her  with  something  like  anger. 
They  had  had  a  discussion  during  the  afternoon, 
in  which  the  sou  had  had  the  one  refuge  of  dis- 
respect and  impertinence.  Even  with  those 
weapons  he  felt  that  he  had  come  off  worsted, 
and  he  was  angry  with  both  his  mother  and  him- 
self. It  did  not  suit  him  to  be  angry.  It  ruffled 


Il6  HER   LADYSHIP. 

and  annoyed  him.  Long  experience  had  taught 
him  that  in  the  long  run  it  did  not  pay  to  vex  his 
mother. 

' '  Give  me  a  wrap  or  something  and  I  will  go 
after  her,"  he  said. 

But  it  was  not  an  easy  matter  to  find  her.  Up 
and  down  the  terrace  and  the  grounds  he  went, 
without  seeing  a  sign  of  his  wife.  Once  he  felt 
sure  he  must  have  missed  her,  and  went  back, 
but  his  mother's  triumphant  face  sent  him  out 
again  into  the  moonlight  with  a  muttered  impre- 
cation. 

"The  Americans  have  a  little  different  manners 
from  ours,"  he  heard  her  explaining  to  old  Sir 
Thomas,  whose  red  face  was  seen  in  the  center  of 
every  collection  of  gossip  talkers  in  the  county. 

This  time  the  red  gleam  of  Belding's  cigar 
drew  him  to  the  shrubbery  by  the  library,  and 
he  crashed  down  the  gravel  toward  the  young 
architect,  to  find  him  alone. 

' '  Where  is  Lady  Lurgan  ?  ' '  the  earl  asked 
without  the  least  preliminary. 

' '  Lady  Lurgan  ?  ' '  Belding  was  a  young  man 
of  good  heart  and  ardent  sympathies,  but  he  had 
not  a  very  ready  tact.  "Lady  Lurgan  left  me  a 
moment  ago,  to  go  to  her  apartment,  I  believe, 
perhaps  for  a  wrap  ' ' — seeing  the  scarf  on  Lur- 
gan's  arm.  "  I  told  her  I  would  wait  for  her." 

"Thank  you  very  much,   but  I  will  relieve 


HER   LADYSHIP.  117 

you  of  the  duty.  I  want  to  speak  to  my  wife 
for  a  moment. ' ' 

Lurgan  went  through,  the  door,  and  left  Beld- 
ing  with  his  cigar,  feeling  that  he  had  made  a 
mess  of  it  somewhere.  Angry,  and  not  at  all  of 
the  disposition  to  conceal  it,  he  ran  up  stairs,  and 
with  a  hurried  knock,  to  which  he  waited  for  no 
answer,  went  into  his  wife's  dressing  room. 
Alice,  her  face  swollen  with  weeping,  was  stand- 
ing by  her  dressing  table,  trying  to  cover  up 
the  traces  of  tears  with  powder  and  making  a 
sorry  spectacle  of  herself. 

The  sight  exasperated  Lurgan  to  the  point  of 
rudeness.  She  looked  plain,  and  she  displeased 
him. 

"  May  I  ask,"  he  said  cuttingly,  "  if  I  must 
remonstrate  with  my  architect  for  causing  you 
this  discomfort?  " 

Three  hours  before  Alice  might  have  kept 
silent,  but  she  had  wept  all  her  tears  away, 
and  was  beginning  to  think  she  had  been  a  fool 
for  ever  having  cried  at  all. 

"  My  discomfort  was  not  caused  by  any 
guest  in  this  house,  but  by  an  accumulation  of 
unpleasant  things,"  she  said  spiritedly,  although 
her  voice  caught  now  and  then  like  a  child's 
when  it  has  cried  itself  to  exhaustion.  She 
turned  squarely  and  looked  at  her  husband, 
and  their  eyes  met  without  one  ray  of  under- 


Il8  HER  LADYSHIP. 

standing  or  sympathy.  They  were  strangers  to 
each  other,  and  they  realized  it  with  distaste. 
' '  It  began  early  in  the  evening, ' '  Alice  went  on 
calmly,  ' '  speaking  of  my  discomfort  today.  I 
met  a — woman  in  one  of  the  cottages  today,  a 
Mrs.  Welles.  The  fact  that  I  had  spoken  to  her 
appeared  to  be  a  sufficiently  important  piece  of 
news  to  be  carried  directly  to  your  mother,  who 
told  me  that  she  was  a  woman  with  a  past  ;  that 
it  would  be  a  scandal  if  I  recognized  her ;  that 
she  was  here  to  annoy  us.  Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  explain  the  situation  to  me?" 

I^urgan  smiled  in  what  he  intended  to  be  a  cyn- 
ical, indifferent,  man  of  the  world  fashion,  but 
to  save  his  life  some  element  of  self  complacency 
could  not  be  kept  out. 

"  And  you  do  me  the  honor  to  be  jealous,"  he 
said. 

Alice  started  as  if  she  had  been  stung. 

' '  Jealous  !  I  ?  Of  a  woman  I  must  be  warned 
not  to  speak  to  ?  You  have  answered  my  ques- 
tion. Understand,  I^ordLurgan,  that "  Her 

face  grew  white,  she  looked  at  him  for  another 
instant,  and  walked  to  the  door  of  her  bed  room. 
Then  she  came  back,  and  said  with  a  calmness 
which  so  exasperated  him  that  he  wanted  to  strike 
her,  "  I  must  ask  you  to  leave  the  room." 

"  Alice,"  he  said,  "  this  is  infernal  nonsense  ! 
I  will  not  have  my  home  broken  up  by  dissen- 


HER  LADYSHIP.  119 

sions.  You  are  my  wife.  Suppose  I  have  done 
a  few  wild  things  in  my  early  youth,  you  did  not 
expect  me  to  be  like  one  of  your  Christian  Asso- 
ciation young  men,  did  you?  You  yourself, 
tonight,  have  set  the  county  talking  by  spending 
the  evening  on  the  terrace  with  a  man  who 

is ' ' 

"  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  leave  my  room?" 
"If  you  put  it  in  that  fashion,  certainly;" 
and  he  went  out  and  gave  himself  the  pleasure  of 
drawing  the  door  softly  to  its  latch,  when  he 
might  have  slammed  it,  to  show  how  very  calm 
he  was. 

Alice's  night  was  miserable.  She  went  over 
all  the  arguments  which  a  kind  and  charitable 
world  has  provided  for  cases  like  this,  and  her 
vivid  imagination  roamed  from  a  ' '  past ' '  for  her 
husband  to  the  blackest  present.  As  soon  as  it 
was  early  morning,  she  arose  and  went  out  into 
the  beautiful,  dewy  park.  She  wondered  if  she 
ought  to  go  away.  She  wondered  how  much 
certainty  a  woman  needed  before  she  went 
away.  She  would  write  to  her  father — but  how 
could  she  ?  No,  she  would  settle  it  for  her- 
self. She  did  not  know  how  much  money  she 
had,  but  she  had  always  heard  that  it  was  a  great 
deal,  and  now  she  was  glad  of  it.  She  made  a 
picture  in  her  mind  of  going  to  some  quiet  place, 
and  living  alone,  working  among  the  poor,  doing 


120  HER  LADYSHIP. 

good,  living  her  own  simple  life,  until  the  thought 
of  her  stepmother  came  across  the  horizon. 

They  were  coming  abroad  for  the  summer,  to 
have  a  house  and  go  about  during  the  London 
season.  She  could  not  disappoint  them.  She 
was  still  under  the  thrall  of  Mrs.  Sanderson's 
ambition,  and  she  could  not  get  away  from  it. 
She  drew  a  long  breath.  It  might  be  different 
when  her  father  and  mother  came.  It  must  be 
different.  Her  mother  could  settle  everything. 
She  supposed  that  life  could  go  on,  outwardly, 
in  conventional  fashion. 

She  had  stopped  by  the  side  of  an  old  marble 
basin,  and  mechanically  stooped  to  call  the  gold 
fish,  when  she  saw  a  shadow  on  the  water  and 
looked  up  to  see  Captain  Innis  walking  toward 
her.  He  had  been  away  from  the  Chase,  more 
or  less,  ever  since  her  arrival,  and  she  had  not 
grown  past  first  acquaintance  with  him.  There 
was  nothing  in  Alice's  nature  which  attracted 
him,  or  in  his  to  make  her  look  to  him  for  sym- 
pathy at  any  time.  It  was  with  the  greatest 
distaste  that  she  arose  to  her  feet  upon  his  ap- 
proach, and  she  would  have  moved  away  with  a 
nod  of  good  morning.  But  Captain  Innis  stopped 
her.  He  wore  all  the  courtly  airs  that  were 
esteemed  the  rightful  possession  of  one  of  his 
house  upon  all  occasions  of  ceremony,  and  he  was 
grave  to  solemnity. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  121 

"  My  dear  I^ady  Lurgan,"  he  said,  and  Alice 
could  feel  the  theatrical  premonitions  in  his  tone, 
"  I  must  beg  your  pardon  for  what  you  may 
rightly  consider  an  impertinence." 

Alice  waited  with  an  expression  of  face  which 
certainly  did  not  invite  an  impertinence,  but  Cap- 
tain Innis  went  on  quite  undaunted. 

' '  You  must  understand  that  my  nephew  has 
always  been  to  me  like  a  son.  I  have  had  to 
take  a  father's  place  toward  him  ever  since  he  was 
a  boy,  and  when  I  see  him  in  grief  I  have  some- 
thing of  the  right  to  ask  for  an  explanation. ' ' 

He  looked  sidewise  at  Alice,  at  the  mention  of 
grief,  to  see  how  it  affected  her.  Captain  Innis' 
eyes  were  long  and  black  and  narrow,  and  the 
sidelong  expression  was  easy  to  them  ;  but  when 
he  caught  the  straightforward  gaze  in  Alice's 
eyes,  he  turned  his  quickly  and  went  on. 

"  This  morning  I  learned,  partly  from  my 
nephew  and  partly  from  his  mother,  that  you 
had  taken  a  wrong  view  of  a  lady  who  lives  in 
the  neighborhood."  Captain  Innis  paused,  and 
an  expression  that  somewhat  resembled  a  look  of 
pain  passed  over  his  face.  "  I  can  quite  exoner- 
ate my  nephew  from  any  responsibility  in  bring- 
ing Mrs.  Welles  down  here.  In  fact,  she  was 
not  brought  at  all,  but  came — hear  me  out,  I 
beg,"  as  Alice  made  a  motion  toward  the  house. 
1 '  Not  because  she  felt  that  she  had  a  claim  upon 


122  HER  LADYSHIP. 

ray  nephew,  but  upon  me.  I  beg  your  pardon 
sincerely  for  telling  you  the  story.  It  is  an  old 
one,  forgotten  long  ago  by  both  of  us.  Mrs. 
Welles  likes  this  neighborhood  and  stays  here  in 
her  own  house." 

Captain  Innis'  tone  was  one  of  deep  shame  and 
contrition,  but  Alice  had  lost  sight  of  him  in  the 
new  and  complex  emotion  that  was  taking  pos- 
session of  her.  She  had  just  heard,  on  the  best 
authority,  that  she  had  judged  her  husband 
hastily  and  wrongful!)^  and  that  there  was  no 
necessity  for  the  heroic  treatment  she  had  con- 
templated. She  was  not  overcome  with  joy. 
That  conscience  of  hers  was  standing  in  its  par- 
ticular pulpit,  delivering  its  own  homily,  and  in- 
viting her  to  undo  processes  of  thought  which 
she  had  quite  accepted,  telling  her  to  go  to  I,ur- 
gan  and  beg  his  pardon  ;  and  all  the  while  the 
obstinate  side  of  her  was  saying  that  he  had  been 
insulting  to  her,  that  this  was  only  one  of 
many  things.  The  little  god  was  not  there  with 
his  rosy  glasses  to  make  all  things  beautiful  in 
this  new  light,  and  Alice  was  not  sure  that  she 
had  not  been  welcoming  an  excuse  to  get  away 
from  the  trials  of  her  life.  They  seemed  too 
heavy  to  bear. 

But  what  she  must  do  was  quite  plain  before 
her.  She  knew  that  I/urgan  would  not  be  out 
for  two  or  three  hours,  and  she  went  up  and 


HER  LADYSHIP.  123 

sent  a  message  to  him,  asking  him  to  come  to  her 
sitting  room  as  soon  as  he  arose ;  and  then  she 
sat  down  to  look  over  the  letters  from  home,  and 
to  answer  them.  Here  at  least  were  some  people 
whom  it  was  in  her  power  to  please.  Her  step- 
mother asked  that  an  agent  be  consulted  about 
finding  a  house  quite  near  the  London  house  of 
the  Lurgans,  and  that  it  be  large,  and  designed 
for  entertaining. 

"  Get  a  duke's  house,  if  you  can,"  she  wrote  ; 
' '  they  say  that  the  prestige  of  a  good  house  is 
everything.  Of  course  we  shall  not  need  any- 
thing of  that  sort,  but  there  is  no  reason  for  our 
lacking  any  of  the  advantages." 

Alice  wrote  that  she  had  already  spoken  to 
Lady  Fortescue,  who  told  her  that  the  dowager 
Lady  Lurgan  knew  all  about  houses,  and 
would  be  sure  to  select  quite  the  proper  thing. 

She  had  hardly  finished,  and  patted  on  the 
stamp,  when  Lurgan  entered.  He  was  in  riding 
costume,  and  had  an  air  about  him  which  seemed 
to  say  that  it  would  be  an  excellent  idea  to  be  as 
expeditious  as  possible.  His  complete  ignoring 
of  the  semblance  of  a  quarrel  of  the  evening  be- 
fore put  Alice  out,  and  for  an  instant  she  stood 
speechless.  To  a  man  who  loved  her  there  would 
have  been  something  sweetly  pathetic  in  her 
slender  girlish  figure  and  pale  face,  but  Lurgan 
looked  at  her  coldly. 


124  HER   LADYSHIP. 

Half  an  hour  earlier  his  uncle  had  come  into 
his  room  and  told  him  what  he  had  done. 

' '  I  have  only  one  thing  to  say, ' '  I^urgan  had 
said,  as  he  drew  the  razor  down  his  thin,  dark 
cheek,  "and  that  is  that  you  have  made  a 
meddlesome  ass  of  yourself. ' ' 

"  I  believe  she  would  have  left  you." 

"Not  at  all.  You  don't  know  the  influences 
on  the  other  side  of  the  world.  And  beside, 
where  would  she  go  ?  She  is  not  likely  to  give 
up  social  life,  just  when  she  is  entering  upon  it, 
for  a  whim.  Oh,  no,  Alfred,  the  American 
woman  does  not  marry  over  here  for  the  purpose 
of  getting  a  Chicago  divorce.  It  was  just  as  well 
to  let  her  gradually  accustom  herself  to  the  idea 
that  she  has  not  married  a  saint,  nor  a  man  who 
makes  any  pretense  of  being  a  saint.  They  all 
have  to  learn  that  lesson  sooner  or  later,  and  you 
have  done  neither  of  us  any  sort  of  a  kindness  in 
postponing  it." 

' '  You  do  not  understand  the  sort  of  woman 
you  have  married." 

"  I  understand  that  she  is  a  woman,  and  she  is 
my  wife,"  Lurgan  said  grimly.  "She  must  put 
up  with  the  situation.  I  know  she  married  me 
for  my  position,  because  she  was  in  love  with 
another  man  when  she  did  it.  A  woman  who 
can  do  that  can  put  up  with  a  few  peccadilloes. ' ' 

"  If  that  young  girl  you  have  married  is  a  cool, 


HER   LADYSHIP.  125 

calculating  woman  of  purely  commercial  instincts, 
I  must  revise  my  study  of  the  sex,"  Alfred  Innis 
said. 

"You  may  as  well  begin,  then,"  his  nephew 
rejoined.  "She  is  a  cool  hand.  Sometimes  she 
almost  deceives  me.  I  believe  she  has  an  idea  of 
doing  her  duty  by  me,  or  something  of  that  sort. 
She  is  pretty  young,  and  innocent  in  most  ways, 
but  she  married  me  to  gain  the  title  and  the 
position." 

This  was  the  belief  in  his  heart  as  he  stood 
and  looked  at  her.  To  L,urgan's  mind,  as  to  that 
of  a  great  many  other  men,  women  are  all  sly, 
and  what  they  call  ' '  up  to  tricks. ' '  They  ex- 
pect them  to  be  ready  to  play  upon  the  feelings. 
A  really  honest  woman  is  something  they  quite 
fail  to  understand. 

"  I  sent  for  you,"  Alice  said,  "  to  tell  you  how 
sorry  and  ashamed  I  am  for  having  spoken  to  you 
of  m}'  unpleasant  suspicions.  I  know  what  an 
injustice  I  did  you.  I  beg  your  pardon." 

L,urgan  walked  over  to  her,  kissed  her  lightly 
on  the  forehead  and  laughed.  ' '  I  thought  you 
would  learn,  by  and  by,  not  to  let  imagination 
make  you  see  too  many  things.  It  isn't  pleasant 
for  anybody." 

' '  Of  course  I  shall  never  speak  to  that  Mrs. 
Welles  again.  She  ought  not  to  be  here.  Why 
didn't  your  uncle  marry  her?  " 


126  HER  LADYSHIP. 

I^urgan's  brows  drew  together  in  a  hard,  black 
line,  and  his  mouth  twitched  disagreeably. 

"Oh,  cut  that,  Alice,"  he  said.  "  I^et  the 
poor  woman  alone.  The  world  is  surely  big 
enough  for  the  two  of  you  without  ever  cross- 
ing each  other.  She  wouldn't  have  looked  at 
Alfred." 

"  But  I  thought " 

"Don't  think." 

' '  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  glad  not  to  think  about 
disagreeable  things.  Where  are  you  going  ?  ' ' 

"  Down  to  the  home  farm,  and  for  a  gallop. 
Good  by.  I  may  go  on  over  and  lunch  with 
Theo  ; ' '  and  he  went  out,  leaving  Alice  unsatis- 
fied, and  with  an  uneasy  sensation  that  after  all 
this  was  not  a  pleasant  family  to  belong  to. 

The  thought  of  having  her  own  family  in  Lou- 
don  was  an  unspeakable  relief.  She  wanted 
Connie's  gay  laughter,  her  father's  handsome 
face,  and — blessed  thought  ! — her  stepmother's 
talent  for  straightening  out  tangles.  They  were 
so  pleasant,  so  smooth.  I^ife  had  been  so  simple 
and  easy  at  home. 


XIV. 

TT  isn't  exactly  pleasant  always  to  hear  the 
truth,  I  will  admit,"  L,ady  Fortescue  was 
saying,  ' '  but  at  any  rate  you  know  exactly  where 
you  stand.  They  tell  me  that  in  America  you 
habitually  say  pleasant  things  to  each  other, 
whether  they  are  true  or  not,  just  as  the  Japanese 
do,  and  when  you  come  in  contact  with  our  habit 
of  always  saying  what  we  mean,  you  find  us 
blunt  and  rude.  Is  that  true?  " 

"Sometimes,"  Alice  admitted,  "we  cut  out  a 
fact  which  might  sound  rude,  but  I  think  we  are 
habitually  honest.  We  simply  do  not  tell  all  the 
truth." 

"Neither  do  we  English,  for  that  matter," 
L,ady  Fortescue  admitted;  "and  for  my  part  I 
often  say  a  thing  simply  because  it  is  rude.  I 
like  to  stir  up  the  animals.  You  are  always  so 
complimentary,  when  you  say  anything  at  all, 
that  I  generally  doubt  you,  although  I  confess  I 
am  touched  by  the  compliment  of  anybody  want- 
ing to  flatter  me. ' ' 

Alice  leaned  back  against  the  sofa,  and  smiled. 
They  were  being  dined  at  the  Fortescues'  enor- 
127 


128  HER  LADYSHIP. 

mous  house,  which  appeared  to  have  a  great 
many  of  the  startling  characteristics  of  its  mis- 
tress, but  Alice  was  learning  to  enjoy  some  of 
them.  Now  and  then  there  was  a  flavor  about 
Lady  Fortescue  and  her  belongings  which  recalled 
Chicago.  Tonight  she  was  entertaining  a  duke 
and  duchess,  and  was  giving  one  of  those  great 
dinner  parties  which  are  commoner  in  England 
than  they  are  in  America,  and  which  possess,  in 
houses  of  great  and  ostentatious  wealth  like  this 
one,  almost  the  importance  of  public  functions. 
The  duchess  had  taken  a  particular  fancy  to 
Alice,  and  as  she  was  not  only  the  owner  of  a 
very  eld  and  wealthy  title,  but  a  leader  in  the 
most  conservative  social  world,  as  her  husband 
\vas  in  the  political,  her  notice  was  considered 
worth  while.  To  Alice,  she  looked  more  like  an 
ancient  governess  than  anything  else.  Her  face 
had  the  thin,  haggard,  and  worried  lines  which 
are  sometimes  seen  in  the  manager  of  a  girls' 
1  Hoarding  school.  She  was  said  to  be  kind  hearted 
in  some  directions,  but  intensely  practical,  and 
taken  up  with  many  affairs.  She  had  congratu- 
lated the  elder  Lady  Lurgan  upon  having  secured 
such  a  pretty  wife  with  such  a  large  fortune  for 
her  son,  and  then  she  let  Alice  sit  beside  her 
while  she  told  her  some  of  the  advantages  of 
being  a  countess. 

' '  They  tell  ine  you  have  been  able  to  put  the 


HER  LADYSHIP.  129 

town  house  in  order,  aud  that  you  will  go  up  for 
the  season  and  entertain.  Are  you  accustomed 
to  large  entertainments?  "  Then,  without  wait- 
ing for  an  answer,  she  went  on  :  "  Lady  Lurgan 
will  be  able  to  coach  you  in  our  ways,  however, 
and  you  will  soon  be  able  to  carry  on  your  duties 
properly. ' ' 

' '  My  mother  will  be  with  me  a  great  deal  of 
the  time,"  Alice  said. 

Lady  Lurgan  sat  within  earshot,  and  Alice, 
who  had  thought  of  many  things  in  the  last 
week,  saw  that  this  might  be  a  good  opportunity 
for  letting  her  mother  in  law  know  that  she 
intended  being  mistress  of  the  town  house. 

"  Your  mother  is  an  American,  is  she  not  ?  " 

' '  Yes.  She  intends  taking  a  house  in  London. 
I  am  to  see  about  it  at  once.  She  will  probably 
entertain." 

' '  They  tell  me  a  great  many  Americans  are 
trying  to  make  their  way  into  society  over  here," 
her  grace  said,  but  with  rather  a  lack  of  interest. 

The  dowager  Lady  Lurgan  settled  back  into 
her  chair  with  an  expression  which  was  not  pleas- 
ant, but  it  contained  no  look  of  defeat.  It  was 
rather  the  smile  of  one  whose  patience  had  been 
pushed  to  extremities,  and  who  would  calmly 
and  judicially  mete  out  punishment.  She  had 
arrayed  herself  in  the  glory  of  a  velvet  gown, 
with  some  heavy  old  Venetian  point  lace,  and  a 


130  HER  LADYSHIP. 

rather  barbaric  display  of  jewelry,  and  she  had 
something  of  the  grim  stateliness  of  a  Roman 
emperor. 

The  evening  had  not  been  a  very  pleasant  one 
to  Alice.  Wherever  she  went,  she  was  conscious 
always  of  something  like  toleration.  The  women 
and  men  had  evidently  expected  to  find  a  very 
different  person  in  the  American  heiress  that  Lur- 
gan  had  married.  They  had  heard  that  Americans 
were  vivacious,  high  colored,  and  smartty  gowned, 
with  "  snap  "  and  wit  and  "go"  ;  a  little  vulgar, 
perhaps,  but  quite  able  to  take  the  reins  in  their 
own  hands  and  do  what  they  chose.  Instead, 
they  saw  a  very  young,  very  gentle  girl,  who 
seemed  to  have  little  spirit,  and  to  take  no  great 
amount  of  interest  in  life.  They  confessed  that 
she  was  remarkably  pretty,  and  very  well  dressed, 
but  there  were  plent}'  of  girls  in  English  society 
who  were  both  those  things.  The  men  said  L,ur- 
gan  had  a  wife  vastly  too  good  for  him,  and 
wondered  at  his  luck,  but  moved  respectfully 
away  from  a  young  woman  who  seemed  to  care 
very  little  about  them.  Their  wives  and  daugh- 
ters looked  at  her  with  an  expressed  wonder  at 
the  reputations  Americans  somehow  managed  to 
get  for  themselves.  As  Alice  felt  herself  more 
and  more  an  object  of  curiosity,  she  drew  more 
and  more  within  herself.  Her  very  soul  would 
have  burned  could  she  have  known  that  Sir 


HER  LADYSHIP.  13 1 

Thomas  Creighton  had  already  told  that  she  had 
gone  out  walking  with  the  architect  in  the  moon- 
light until  her  husband  had  been  obliged  to  go 
after  her.  ' '  Hunting  an  '  ice  cream  parlor, '  I 
suppose, ' '  Sir  Thomas  had  said,  in  deference  to 
that  poor  old  American  joke  of  which  the  news- 
papers are  so  fond.  Nor  did  she  dream  that  the 
story  of  her  meeting  with  Mrs.  Welles  had  been 
laughed  at,  or  received  with  exclamations  of  pity, 
in  every  house  in  the  county. 

The  homeward  drive  was  a  long  one,  and  the 
three  occupants  of  the  Chase  carriage  sat  silent 
most  of  the  way.  Alice  had  nothing  to  say,  and 
when  Lurgan  and  his  mother  spoke  it  was  con- 
cerning the  additions  that  were  to  be  made  to  the 
house  during  the  summer.  Alice's  pride  kept 
her  apart  from  them.  She  used  to  have  courage 
enough,  she  thought,  and  she  made  up  her  mind 
to  settle  the  question  of  the  town  house.  She 
would  make  a  bold  stroke ;  and  then,  her  heart 
beating  a  little  faster,  she  hesitated.  It  might 
be  unpleasant.  She  would  go  and  settle  the 
matter  with  I/urgan,  and  let  him  make  the 
arrangements.  The  possibility  that  he  would  not 
agree  to  anything  she  might  suggest,  if  she 
really  took  it  upon  herself  to  take  the  initiative, 
never  for  one  instant  entered  her  mind.  He  was 
her  husband,  and  this  was  her  home.  She  had 
been  indolent  and  stupid  not  to  have  said  in  the 


132  HER  LADYSHIP. 

beginning  that  she  would  take  the  charge  of  the 
house. 

Alice's  ideas  of  the  relation  between  a  hus- 
band and  a  wife  were  purely  American.  She 
had  seen  nothing  in  England  to  contradict  her 
theories.  Lady  Fortescue  did  exactly  as  she 
chose  in  her  own  house,  and  the  only  difference 
in  Salby  Chase  was  that  the  mother  had  been 
left  in  control  instead  of  the  wife. 

It  was  very  late  when  the  carriage  drew  up  to 
the  door.  A  fire  was  burning  in  the  hall,  and  a 
man  was  there  with  a  tray,  while  a  jug  of  some- 
thing was  brewing  on  the  hearth. 

"Come  here  before  you  go  up,  Algernon," 
his  mother  said.  "  I  want  to  speak  to  you.  I 
shall  probably  not  be  down  before  you  go  to 
London  in  the  morning." 

Alice  hesitated.  ' '  Are  you  going  to  London 
tomorrow?  I — if  you  don't  mind,  I  think  I  will 
go  with  you. ' ' 

"  I  am  only  going  up  for  the  day,  a  very  hasty 
trip,  to  see  the  lawyers,"  Lurgan  said  hurriedly, 
in  reply. 

"Oh,  very  well,  but  I  think  I  will  take 
Celeste  and  go  up  any  way. ' ' 

' '  New  gowns  ?  I  thought  you  had  enough  to 
last  for  a  century." 

"  No,  I  want  to  see  the  town  house." 

"That  is  all  being  prepared.     You  need  give 


HER   LADYvSHIP.  133 

yourself  no  concern  about  the  town  house," 
I^ady  Lurgan  said  quickly. 

"  And  then,"  Alice  went  on,  speaking  indiffer- 
ently, "  I  want  to  see  if  it  is  necessary  for  mamma 
to  get  a  house  in  London.  It  seems  to  me  that  if 
ours  is  so  large,  there  is  no  reason  why  papa  and 
mamma  and  Constance  should  not  stay  with  us." 

Lurgan  had  taken  the  tongs  in  his  hands  and 
was  carefully  lifting  up  some  pieces  of  wood  and 
placing  them  on  the  logs,  but  his  mother  gave  a 
short  laugh. 

"Sit  down,  Alice,"  she  said  with  great  good 
humor.  "  I  had  intended  talking  this  matter  of 
your  people  coming  over  here  with  Algernon 
tonight ;  but  since  you  have  brought  up  the  sub- 
ject, it  may  as  well  be  finished  now.  Of  course, 
the  idea  of  entertaining  them  in  our  house  is 
preposterous. ' ' 

Alice  had  grown  very  pale,  but  she  faced  Lady 
Lurgan  unflinchingly. 

"  Pardon  me,  Lady  Lurgan,"  she  said,  "but  I 
must  be  the  judge  of  when  I  shall  entertain  my 
family  in  my  own  house." 

"  In  your  husband's  house,  you  mean.  This 
is  your  first  season  in  London.  You  are  under 
the  disadvantage  of  being  a  foreigner,  of  no  birth, 
with  no  family  connections  whatever.  You  have 
married  into  this  family,  and  it  is  its  duty,  and 
shall  be  its  care,  to  see  that  you  make  no  serious 


134  HER  LADYSHIP. 

mistakes.  Yon  could  do  nothing  so  fatal — so 
absolutely  ludicrous — as  to  take  a  lot  of  nobodies 
into  your  house  to  foist  upon  the  friends  of  your 
husband's  family.  We  cannot  allow  it.  Not 
only  shall  we  not  invite  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sanderson 
and  their  daughter  to  visit  us  just  now,  but  if 
they  persist  in  coming  to  London,  I  shall  write 
to  your  parents  and  tell  them  what  a  disadvantage 
their  presence  would  be  to  you,  and  shall  ask 
them  to  remain  in  America."  Lady  Lurgan's 
voice  was  perfectly  calm  and  suave.  "  And  after 
the  trouble  they  have  taken  to  place  you  in  a 
good  position,  I  believe  that  when  they  under- 
stand the  situation  they  will  be  the  last  people  to 
imperil  it." 

"I  cannot  take  your  decision,  cannot  allow 
you  to  make  one  for  me,  Lady  Lurgan,"  Alice 
said. 

"  My  son  quite  agrees  with  me,  I  am  sure." 
Lurgan   straightened   up,   and   looked   bored. 
"  Of  course  it  is  all  nonsense  for  you  to  quarrel, 
but  Alice,  you  must  be  sensible,  and  see  that 
mother  is  right." 


XV. 

COME  characters  are  firm  in  maturity,  after 
they  have  gone  through  a  sort  of  mellowing 
process,  but  deserve  only  the  description  of  ob- 
stinacy in  their  youth. 

Alice,  Lady  I,urgan,  had  one  of  these.  She 
said  nothing  when  her  husband  and  her  mother 
in  law  settled  her  affairs  between  them,  but  set 
her  lips  together  and  walked  up  stairs  ;  and  the 
force  of  her  new  will  was  such  that  she  not  only 
did  not  cry,  but  she  closed  her  eyes  and  went  to 
sleep,  first  setting  a  tiny  Dresden  clock  by  her 
bedside.  Her  maid  undressed  her  as  usual,  giving 
her  the  half  careless  attention  which  most  Ameri- 
can women  allow  when  they  are  tired  at  night. 
As  she  started  to  leave  the  room,  Alice  called  to 
her. 

"Celeste,"  she  said,  "come  in  very  early  in 
the  morning.  I  am  going  up  to  I^ondon  during 
the  day,  and  I  shall  want  you  to  go  with  me." 

"Do  you  go  with  I/>rd  I<urgan,  my  lady  ?  " 
It  had  taken  Celeste  only  the  time  of  the  mar- 
riage Ceremony  to  learn  to  give  Alice  the  title 
which  servants  love. 

135 


136  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"I  am  not  sure.  He  thinks  of  going  rather 
early,  I  believe." 

"Yes,  my  lady.     Mr.  Merton,  his  man " 

"  That  will  do.  Go  down  to  the  offices  in  the 
morning  and  bring  me  a  time  table.  And, 
Celeste,  you  need  not  speak  of  my  going." 

"No,  my  lady." 

But  how  could  a  poor  French  girl,  who  knew 
nothing  whatever  of  English,  find  a  time  table 
without  assistance?  Mr.  Merton,  called  upon, 
gave  all  the  information  concerning  London 
trains. 

"I  am  going  to  stay  at  home  myself,"  Mr. 
Merton  volunteered.  "  I  am  like  her  ladyship — 
not  wanted  at  all  particularly.  I  tell  you,  Mile. 
Celeste,  if  you  want  amusement,  just  take  your 
mistress  up  by  the  11.42.  That's  the  train  for 
her  to  go  on. ' ' 

"  Is  his  lordship  going  up  by  that  train  ?  " 

"  Not  he.  He  goes  up  by  the  9.30  ;  but  you 
take  my  lady  up  on  the  eleven  express. ' ' 

"  I  think  you  are  too  much  like  your  master, 
and  I'll  not  run  the  risk  of  teasing  the  poor 
thing,  so  I'll  not  do  it.  And  for  that,  you 
might  tell  me  why  you  want  it  done." 

Merton  leaned  over  and  whispered  something 
which  made  Celeste  draw  back  with  her  features 
distorted. 

"  You're  a  mean,  disgusting  fellow  to  want  to 


HER  LADYSHIP.  137 

destroy  a  poor  lady's  happiness  ;  and  you  have 
come  to  the  wrong  person  to  help  you.  It  is  not 
I  that  would  hurt  her  in  any  way.  However 
we  get  to  London,  it  will  not  be  on  that  train." 

' '  I  hope  she  catches  him  at  his  tricks,  all  the 
same,"  Merton  said  spitefully.  "I  should  like 
to  see  what  he  would  do  then.  She  looks 
almighty  meek,  but  I'll  wager  half  a  crown  she 
wouldn't  be  an  easy  one  to  let  up.  Perhaps 
she's  got  an  inkling  and  is  going  up  to  pry 
about  a  bit,  eh  ?  " 

"You  don't  know  her,"  Celeste  said  with 
pride,  and  walked  out.  But  before  she  reached 
Alice's  room  she  had  gone  over  the  time  table, 
and  when  she  set  down  the  breakfast  tray  she 
had  brought  in,  she  folded  the  card  of  the  trains 
so  that  the  1 1 . 42  express  was  prominent. 

Alice  looked  the  train  list  over,  and  said,  as 
she  put  it  down  : 

"  Order  the  brougham  at  eleven  o'clock." 

Celeste  said  nothing,  but  her  excitement  loving 
heart  beat  a  little  faster. 

Alice  left  no  message  for  I^ady  I^urgan.  She 
felt  that  all  communication  had  been  broken  off, 
except  what  was  absolutely  necessary.  She  did 
not  even  glance  back  as  she  took  her  seat,  with 
Celeste  by  her  side,  in  the  brougham.  It  might 
be  discourteous,  but  Alice  was  entering  upon  a 
period,  she  told  herself,  where  discourtesy  was 


138  HER  LADYSHIP. 

going  to  count  for  little — at  least,  such  dis- 
courtesy as  this. 

The  station  at  Salby  was  a  small  one,  with  a 
gay  little  house  and  a  long,  sunny  platform.  As 
Lady  Lurgan's  carriage  drew  up,  a  pony  chaise 
drove  away,  leaving  a  lady  in  a  fresh  spring 
gown  standing  alone  in  the  full  light.  As  Alice 
stepped  out  she  recognized  her  as  Mrs.  Welles. 
Her  first  impulse  was  to  bow,  although  she 
could  feel  the  red  in  her  cheeks  and  brow ;  but 
the  older  woman  looked  her  calmly  and  squarely 
in  the  face,  and  made  no  sign  of  recognition 
whatever. 

When  the  train  came  along,  Alice  and  her 
maid  went  into  one  compartment  and  Mrs. 
Welles  into  another.  But  the  encounter  had 
taken  all  of  the  life  out  of  Alice's  morning.  She 
felt  that  she  had  been  gauche — that  she  had  not 
known  how  to  treat  a  situation.  And  then 
she  would  not  have  been  a  modern  American 
girl  if  some  other  thoughts  had  not  crept  into  her 
mind. 

She  had  not  cut  the  acquaintance  of  Captain 
Iiinis.  To  be  sure,  she  looked  at  him  with  a  sort 
of  disgust.  He  offended  her,  but  she  still  spoke 
to  him.  He  was  not  even  kind  hearted,  and 
tender,  and  charitable,  and  she  had  discovered 
that  this  woman  was  all  of  those  things.  She 
told  herself  that  she  believed  in  one  law  for  men 


HER  LADYSHIP.  139 

and  for  women,  yet  here  she  was,  shrinking 
back,  flushing  at  the  sight  of  this  woman  with 
that  vague  thing  they  call  a  "past  " — a  period 
of  life  concerning  which  she  was,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  absolutely  ignorant — while  every  day  she 
sat  down  with  Captain  Innis,  who  had  confessed 
himself  as  the  major  cause  of  Mrs.  Welles' 
disrepute,  and  treated  him  as  a  member  of  her 
family. 

The  country  they  were  passing  through  was 
beautiful  Great  houses  could  sometimes  be  seen 
back  on  wooded  slopes.  They  went  past  pictur- 
esque little  villages  and  sunken  lanes  where 
children  in  the  dim,  sweet  colors  which  Birket 
Foster  painted  stood  waiting  for  the  train  to  go  by. 
It  was  all  full  of  the  sweet  suggestions  of  homes, 
and  the  Countess  of  L,urgaii  felt  homeless. 

She  hardly  knew  where  she  was  going  when 
she  reached  L,oudon,  but  she  knew  very  well 
what  she  intended  to  accomplish  before  she  left  it. 
Presently  the  green  fields  and  the  villages  were 
left  behind,  and  she  was  in  the  brick  and  mortar 
wilderness.  Celeste  was  gathering  up  their 
wraps  and  bags.  The  French  girl  was  so  nervous 
that  she  was  almost  in  tears,  and  she  fumbled 
over  her  straps,  and  some  magazines  which  they 
had  brought,  long  after  the  train  had  come  to  a 
standstill.  It  was  so  long  that  the  guard  came 
to  the  door  to  help  them  out. 


140  Hi.R   LADYSHIP. 

"In  one  moment,  my  lady,"  the  girl  said. 
She  had  taken  half  a  dozen  furtive  looks  out 
of  the  window.  She  had  wondered  what  her 
mistress  would  do  if — and  now  she  feared  above 
all  things  that  she  was  about  to  discover.  But 
they  could  not  hesitate  all  day  ;  and  at  last  they 
walked  out  to  see  lyord  L,urgan  putting  Mrs. 
Welles  into  a  cab,  to  see  him  follow  her,  and  call 
a  direction  to  the  driver,  and  drive  rapidly  away. 

Alice  had  not  been  trained  in  a  school  which 
would  make  her  self  possessed  under  a  circum- 
stance like  this ;  but  nature  came  to  her  assist- 
ance. Hardly  knowing  what  she  did,  numb, 
almost  dizzy,  she  followed  Celeste,  who  on  the 
instant,  and  out  of  her  own  nervousness,  had 
taken  the  initiative,  to  a  cab.  It  was  only  when 
the  maid  asked  her  the  direction  that  she  realized 
that  somewhere  in  her  brain  she  had  lost  all  of 
her  plans  for  the  day.  She  sat  stupidly  looking 
at  Celeste  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  went  into 
the  tiny  silver  mounted  bag  at  her  waist  and 
brought  out  one  of  Beldiug's  cards. 

"Go  there,"  she  said. 

She  wanted  to  put  her  hands  to  her  head  and 
think  of  what  she  had  seen.  These  people  were 
all  deceivers.  They  had  laughed  at  her.  The)7 
thought  her  a  fool.  She  was  simply  the 
purse  for  this  family.  And  then  her  sense  of 
justice — Alice's  greatest  characteristic,  after  her 


HER   LADYSHIP.  141 

impulsiveness — came  in  again.  She  had  no  right 
to  judge  from  purely  circumstantial  evidence. 
She  wanted  to  think  the  least  humiliating  thing. 
She  could  not  believe,  all  in  an  instant,  that  her 
husband  was  deceiving  her  in  this  bold  way.  She 
thought  of  all  the  instances  where  people  had 
been  condemned  unjustly  through  a  chain  of 
circumstances.  Captain  Innis  had  told  her  that 
her  husband  had  no  connection  with  Mrs.  Welles, 
and  had  taken  that  entanglement  upon  his  own 
shoulders.  It  might  be  that  L,urgan  had  brought 
the  woman  up  to  I<ondon  to  get  her  away  from 
Salby,  that  she  might  no  longer  be  a  scandal 
there.  Alice  had  read — in  stories — of  members 
of  families  making  such  arrangements.  She 
would  give  L,urgan  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,  she 
said  to  herself ;  but  even  while  she  said  it,  the 
picture  of  his  face  as  he  stepped  into  that  cab 
was  before  her.  It  was  gay — not  at  all  the  face 
of  a  man  performing  a  duty. 

Celeste  broke  in  upon  her  thoughts. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  lady,"  she  said,  "  but  are  we 
going  to  a  hotel  anywhere  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  we  must,  some  time — 
but  first  I  want  to  go  to  the  address  the  driver 
has.  I  have  some  business. ' ' 

"  Oh,"  Celeste  said.  She  had  seen  the  card, 
and  was  dying  with  curiosity;  for  the  story  of 
L,ady  I^urgan's  evening  in  the  park  with  Mr. 


142  HER  LADYSHIP. 

Belding  had  come  back  to  the  servants'  room  at 
Salby  Chase  after  it  had  reached  the  below  stairs 
society  of  the  other  houses  in  the  neighborhood. 
Celeste  knew  her  mistress,  she  had  thought,  but 
since  she  reached  England  she  was  gaining  new 
points  of  view.  There  are  no  such  romancers  as 
servants,  and  they  can  give  to  their  masters  and 
mistresses  only  such  motives  as  they  themselves 
possess. 

Mr.  Belding  happened  to  be  in  his  office.  It 
was  in  a  new  building  rather  after  the  American 
plan,  and  as  Alice  went  up  in  the  "lift"  she 
seemed  to  have  touched  Chicago  remotely.  She 
had  no  idea  what  Belding  might  think  of  her. 
She  only  knew  that  she  had  no  plans,  that  there 
was  something  she  must  do,  and  that  in  all  this 
great  world  of  London,  of  England,  here  was 
the  only  human  being  to  whom  she  felt  like 
going. 

Belding,  thinking  it  was  something  about 
the  new  wings  of  Salby  Chase,  when  he  saw  the 
card,  came  out  of  his  work  room  rather  stiffly. 
There  had  been  a  vagueness  concerning  his  com- 
mission which  had  touched  his  pride  ;  but  when 
he  saw  Alice's  white  face,  with  its  appealing 
eyes — eyes  that  held  an  expression  of  which  she 
was  quite  unconscious — he  was  read}'  to  do  any- 
thing she  asked,  even  to  building  the  wings  with 
his  own  hands. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  143 

But  it  was  on  quite  a  different  errand  she  had 
come. 

"  Mr.  Belding,"  she  said,  as  she  held  out  her 
hand  to  him,  "  I  am  commissioned  by  my  father 
and  mother  to  find  a  large  house  for  them  for 
the  London  season,  and  as  you  know  them,  and 
what  they  would  be  likely  to  want,  I  came  to 
ask  you  to  help  me." 

"Ah,"  Belding  said,  "  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
be  of  any  service  to  you,  Lady  Lurgan,  but " 

"But  what?" 

"It  is  a  little  late  in  the  season  to  pick  up 
anything  really  desirable,  unless  it  is  so  very 
desirable  that  it  has  not  been  put  upon  the  mar- 
ket. I  think,  though,  that  perhaps  that  is 
exactly  what  Mrs.  Sanderson  would  want." 

' '  She  wants  the  most  desirable  house  in 
London. ' ' 

"Would  it  not "  Belding  hesitated. 

' '  Would  it  not  be  a  good  idea  to  consult  the 
Lurgan  family  solicitor?  He  would  probably 
know  of  all  the  good  places  to  rent." 

Alice's  face  flushed. 

"  I  do  not  know  who  he  is. ' ' 

' '  Of  course  you  would  not, ' '  the  young  man 
said  hastily.  ' '  Why  should  you  ?  Perhaps  it 
would  not  be  the  thing,  after  all.  I  know  an 
agent  who  has  innumerable  houses.  He  will 
probably  have  exactly  what  you  want. ' ' 


144  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"Come  with  me,  then,  please,"  Alice  said. 
She  was  in  a  feverish  hurry  to  get  this  done,  so 
that  it  could  not  be  undone.  She  could  not  let 
anybody  disturb  the  plans  of  her  family,  and  they 
might  find  some  way  to  thwart  her  if  she  waited. 

"  It  is  luncheon  time,  and "  Belding  looked 

at  the  wraps  and  bags  the  maid  carried. 

"  We  have  not  been  to  a  hotel  yet.  Will  you 
come  with  me,  then,  and  lunch  with  me,  and 
then  we  can  go  to  the  agent's  at  once?  " 

' '  I  will  call  for  you,  or  meet  you  at  the 
agent's/'  Belding  suggested. 

' '  I  shall  insist  upon  your  calling  for  me  if  you 
will  be  so  good,"  Alice  said.  "  I  am  in  a  great 
hurry.  Would  it  not  be  possible  to  go  now  ?  ' ' 

"Certainly." 

' '  I  will  send  Celeste  to  the  hotel  and  let  her 
engage  rooms  for  me,  I  think,"  Alice  said,  as  they 
came  out  of  the  building. 

"Very  well,"  Belding  replied.  Lady  Lurgan 
ought  to  know  her  own  business  best.  She  was 
an  American,  and  she  was  the  Countess  of  Lurgaii. 
The  agent  was  not  far  away,  and  they  were  lost 
in  London,  he  thought,  as  he  followed  her  into 
the  cab,  after  sending  the  maid  away  in  another. 

They  found  the  agent's  chief  deputy  on  duty, 
with  plenty  of  houses  to  rent,  and  a  laudable 
desire  to  tell  them  how  much  business  his  house 
was  doing. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  145 

"I  think,"  Belding  had  said,  "that  it  will 
hardly  be  wise  to  say  in  the  beginning  that  the 
house  is  for  wealthy  Americans,  or  that  you  are 
the  Countess  of  Lurgan.  The  price  will  double 
itself  immediately  in  that  case.  I/et  me  do  the 
bargaining,  and  you  can  tell  me  when  you  find 
what  you  want." 

"Here,"  the  agent  said,  "is  the  plan  of  a 
house  which  I  let  not  a  half  an  hour  ago  to  the 
Karl  of  Lurgan.  He  was  renting  it  for  a  relative. ' ' 

Alice's  heart  bounded,  while  Belding  looked 
at  her  curiously.  Of  course,  she  might  have 
known  that  he  would  repent,  and  now  he  meant 
to  surprise  her. 

"  It  is  a  small  house,  very  small,  but  I  under- 
stand it's  for  a  cousin  to  live  alone  in,  and  it 
certainly  is  a  little  gem.  We  have  never  had 
anything  more  complete  on  our  list.  It  belongs 
to  a  gentleman  who  has  gone  to  Africa  to  shoot 
big  game,  they  say,  and  his  lordship  got  a 
bargain. ' ' 

But  Alice  didn't  hear  anything  more. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Belding,  that  I 
will  ask  you  to  take  me  to  the  hotel  now.  You 
know  what  my  mother  will  want.  Or — I  am  not 
sure  that  I  want  anything  just  now."  Then, 
recovering  herself  :  ' '  Yes,  I  do.  I  want  a  house 
for  them  taken  at  once." 

'*  I  will  come  back  and  see  the  plans,"  Belding 


146  HER  LADYSHIP. 

said,  and  he  took  L,ady  Lurgau  out  and  put  her 
in  the  cab.  He  did  uot  understand,  but  evidently 
she  did. 

"  I  will-leave  him  !  "  Alice  was  saying  to  her- 
self. "I  do  not  care  what  happens.  I  will 
leave  these  dreadful  people.  I  will  see  I^ord 
Lurgan  at  once,  and  tell  him  so.  I  will  write  to 
my  father." 

Her  mind  went  quickly  back  again  to  the  vision 
she  had  had  before,  of  taking  her  money  and 
going  away  to  some  quiet  place,  and  living  as  she 
liked.  She  couldn't  go  back  to  Chicago.  Her 
father  had  given  her  a  great  deal  of  money  upon 
her  marriage,  she  knew.  She  could  make  plans, 
for  it  was  only  her  pride  and  not  her  heart  which 
had  been  hurt  and  insulted.  Her  life  was 
\vrecked,  but  she  could  think  of  recuperation. 
Perhaps  she  would  not  have  been  human  had 
she  not  thought  of  I^ady  Lurgau's  dismay 
when  the  money  was  taken  away  again. 

She  did  not  speak  a  word  to  Belding  all  the 
way  to  the  hotel,  and  he,  respecting  her  silence, 
looked  out  at  the  hurrying  crowds,  and  tried  not 
to  wonder  what  it  was  all  about.  When  they 
drove  up  to  the  hotel  he  sprang  out  and  gave 
L,ady  L,urgan  his  hand,  just  as  her  husband  came 
leisurely  down  the  steps. 


XVI. 

T  T  is  barely  possible  that  L,urgan  would  have 
gone  on  if  he  had  not  met  the  eyes  of  his 
wife.  He  was  astonished  and  angr3r,  but  he 
wanted  a  minute  to  consider  exactly  how  he 
should  express  his  disapproval  of  what  he  con- 
sidered rank  rebellion.  She  must  be  made  to  see 
what  she  was  doing,  how  she  was  outraging  the 
proprieties  ;  and  in  the  thought,  he  congratu- 
lated himself  that  he  had  left  Mrs.  Welles  up 
stairs.  Belding  was  quite  harmless — of  that  he 
felt  sure  ;  and  he  thought  of  Alice  only  as  a 
simpleton — all  the  more  so,  that  she  had  put 
herself  into  his  hands  in  this  fashion. 

He  walked  to  his  wife's  side  with  an  attitude  of 
grave  disapproval  upon  which  even  his  mother 
could  not  have  improved,  and  took  Alice  from 
Belding' s  care.  But  the  woman  who  looked 
into  his  face  had  something  in  her  own  which 
met  his.  As  he  stopped  to  insist  upon  paying 
the  cabman,  Alice  walked  by  him  into  the  hotel, 
and  when  he  reached  her  side  again  it  was  at  the 
door  of  the  rooms  which  Celeste  had  engaged  for 
her.  She  stopped,  her  hand  on  the  knob  of 


148  HER   LADYSHIP. 

the  door,  and  looked  at  him  with  polite  ques- 
tioning. 

"  I  am  coming  in,"  Lurgan  said.  "I  want  to 
speak  to  you." 

"  Very  well,"  she  answered,  and  led  the  way 
into  a  sitting  room,  where  Celeste  stood  wait- 
ing. "  You  may  go,"  she  said  to  the  maid,  and 
watched  her  until  she  had  closed  the  door  behind 
her.  Then  she  turned  to  her  husband. 

"I  want  to  see  you,  too,  upon  a  matter  of 
great  importance  to  both  of  us." 

' '  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  listen  to  anything  you 
have  to  say,"  Lurgan  said. 

' '  I  can  say  it  in  a  few  words.  I  am  going  to 
leave  your  house. ' ' 

' '  Is  this  the  time  that  a  Chicago  woman  allows 
for  a  first  marriage  ? ' '  Lurgan  sneered,  and 
then  had  the  perception  to  see  what  a  mistake  he 
had  made.  Alice's  face  was  white,  but  it  grew 
firmer.  There  was  no  sign  of  weakness  in  it 
now.  "If  it  is  not  that,  what  has  brought  you 
to  this  decision?" 

"The  fact  that  we  are  perfectly  uncongenial, 
for  one  thing,  and  could  never  be  happy  together  ; 
and  for  another,  your  disrespect  to  me  as  your 
wife." 

"  May  I  ask  you  to  particularize?  " 

"  Certainly.  This  morning,  as  I  left  the  train, 
I  saw  you  driving  away  in  a  cab" — lyurgan 


HER   LADYSHIP.  149 

made  a  gesture  of  derision,  but  Alice,  her  eyes 
on  his,  went  calmly  on — "  with  a  woman  whom 
your  mother  and  your  uncle  had  both  told  me 
was  an  improper  person  for  me  to  speak  to. ' ' 

' '  There  may  be  one  rule  for  a  man  and  another 
for  a  woman,  I  hope  you  will  allow." 

"  In  some  cases,  but  not  in  this  one." 

' '  If  you  expect  me  to  make  an  explanation  of 
every  detail  of  my  life  to  you,  you  are  expecting 
an  impossibility." 

' '  I  expect  every  detail  of  your  life  to  be  such 
that  it  requires  no  explanation." 

' '  And  because  I  ride  in  a  cab  across  London 
with  a  lady  who  lives  in  my  neighborhood,  my 
wife  is  about  to  leave  me." 

' '  We  went  to  the  office  of  a  house  agent,  and 
were  told  that  you  had  just  rented  a  house  for  a 
lady." 

"Oh,  this  is  insufferable  !  "  Lurgan  exclaimed. 
"  You,  my  wife,  know  that  I  am  coming  to  Lon- 
don, and  you  follow  by  the  next  train  to  spy 
upon  me  !  You  get  one  of  my  workmen  to  assist 
you  in  hounding  my  footsteps  !  Would  it  not 
have  been  in  better  taste  to  have  employed  a 
private  detective  ?  At  least  he  would  not  have 
gone  about  gossiping  of  your  folly." 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  that  I  was  not  fol- 
lowing you.  I  came  up  to  London  upon  busi- 
ness of  my  own." 


150  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"May  I  ask  what?" 

"  I  do  not  choose  to  tell  you." 

"  It  appears  to  have  been  to  call  upon  Belding 
in  his  chambers,  I  presume,  sending  your  maid 
here  out  of  the  way,  and  then  taking  him  to  fol- 
low me.  What  are  you  two  looking  for  ?  Grounds 
for  a  divorce?  Did  you  make  friends  so  quickly 
as  that  in  the  grounds  at  Salby  Chase,  or  is  he 
one  of  your  old  Chicago  acquaintances?  " 

"  You  may  insult  me  now,  if  you  choose," 
Alice  said  in  a  strained  voice;  "but  it  will  not 
be  for  long.  I  am  going  to  leave  you.  You  are 
not  a  fit  person  for  me  to  live  with." 

"  May  I  ask  where  you  purpose  going?  " 

"That  I  do  not  know." 

"To  Chicago?" 

"No!  No!" 

"I  rather  think  not.  Your  parents  would 
hardly  receive  you  with  great  cordiality.  You 
would  not  greatly  augment  the  social  position 
3rour  stepmother  desires  to  gain  by  any  such 
conduct." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  go  to  Chicago.  I  will  live 
quietly  here,  somewhere.  I  only  ask  that  you 
give  me  the  money  I  brought  you,  that  my  father 
gave  me  on  my  marriage,  and  let  me  go  away. 
I  ask  nothing  from  you." 

Lurgan  put  one  foot  up  on  the  seat  of  a  low 
chair,  before  which  he  had  been  standing,  and 


HER   LADYSHIP.  151 

calmly  inspected  his  boot.  Alice,  who  had 
eaten  no  breakfast  and  no  luncheon,  was  faint  for 
want  of  food  and  from  nervous  exhaustion,  and 
sank  down  wearily  upon  the  sofa. 

' '  Your  father  gave  you  no  money  upon  your 
marriage. ' ' 

"That  is  untrue.  I  have  heard  everywhere 
that  he  gave  me  a  large  sum.  I  heard  it  dis- 
cussed at  home.  My  mother  told  me  so." 

"  He  gave  me  a  large  sum  when  I  married 
you.  You  had  a  large  dowry,  but  not  one  penny 
of  it  was  settled  upon  you.  I  confess  it  surprised 
me  at  the  time.  I  thought  your  father  was  a 
closer  business  man,  but  I  fancy  your  mother  did 
not  want  to  antagonize  me.  She  did  not  contem- 
plate the  possibility  of  your  wishing  to  leave  me. ' ' 

' '  Then  I  have  not  a  penny  ?  ' ' 

"Not  a  penny  of  your  own."  I^urgan 
straightened  himself  up,  and,  having  finished  the 
inspection  of  his  boot,  put  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  rocked  on  his  toes.  "  But  I  can 
assure  you  that  you  will  always  find  me  ready  to 
give  you  such  an  allowance  as  you  require. ' ' 

' '  Then  give  me  sufficient  to  go  somewhere  at 
once. ' ' 

"  I  was  about  to  say,  so  long  as  you  are  my 
wife  and  under  my  roof,  I  am  hardly  likely  to 
give  you  an  allowance  to  go  away  from  me,  to 
make  a  scandal,  to  destroy  my  home,  to  ruin  your 


152  HER  LADYSHIP. 

prospects  of  future  happiness  and  my  own.  That 
would  hardly  be  common  sense.  I  am  ready  to 
forgive  your  indiscretion,  your  horribly  vulgar 
taste,  if  you  will  pardon  my  saying  it,  in  follow- 
ing me  to  London  and  picking  up  Belding." 

Alice  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  I  do  not  think  we  need  discuss  this  matter 
any  further.  You  may  go." 

' '  Not  for  another  moment  or  two,  if  you 
please,"  L,urgan  returned,  with  great  politeness. 
' '  We  may  as  well  settle  this  matter  here  and  now. 
I  am  tired  of  this  nonsense.  I  am  not  a  school- 
boy to  be  followed  about.  I  demand  that  you 
behave  in  a  manner  befitting  your  position.  You 
do  not  seem  to  understand  what  that  is,  but  I 
trust  you  will  learn  in  time.  My  mother  has 
kindly  undertaken  to  tell  you.  This  must  be 
the  last  time  that  you  make  such  a  journey  as 
this— that  I  absolutely  forbid." 

"  You  can  forbid  me  to  do  nothing,"  Alice 
said.  "  I  acknowledge  your  authority  not  at  all. 
You  have  forfeited  any  claim  you  may  have  had 
upon  my  affections,  and  I  am  not  your  servant, 
to  be  ordered. ' ' 

' '  No,  but  you  are  my  wife. ' ' 

' '  Not  for  another  day  !  I  will  not  return  to 
your  house." 

' '  That  I  must  ask  you  to  do  today, ' '  Lurgan 
said. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  153 

Alice  did  not  reply,  but  she  set  her  face  with 
an  expression  which  meant  open  revolt. 

L,urgan  started  toward  her  once.  He  had 
always  had  a  theory,  which  he  had  often  put 
into  practice,  that  any  woman  could  be  brought 
out  of  what  he  was  pleased  to  term  "a  fit  of  the 
sulks"  by  a  little  judicious  lightness  and  affec- 
tion. But  there  was  something  in  Alice's  face 
which  held  him  back  from  an  attempt  at  this 
now.  She  looked  obstinate,  and  he  had  a  con- 
viction that  he  did  not  know  her  ;  that  here  was 
a  woman  who  was  different  from  the  women  of 
his  wrorld.  He  would  give  her  time  to  think,  and 
Mrs.  Welles  was  waiting  for  him.  With  a  mutter 
about  women  who  were  always  getting  men  into 
scrapes,  Lurgan  turned  toward  the  door.  After 
he  had  pulled  it  half  open,  he  spoke  to  Alice. 

' '  Are  you  coming  home  this  evening  ?  ' ' 

"I  shall  stay  in  London,"  she  said  in  that 
expressionless  voice  which  seemed  to  make  him 
as  remote  as  another  century,  ' '  until  I  am  able 
to  secure  a  house  for  my  mother,  as  she  re- 
quested." 

Again  he  hesitated,  and  then,  with  a  "Good 
morning,"  he  walked  out. 

Mrs.  Welles  received  a  hasty  note,  saying  that 
Ivord  Lurgan  had  been  suddenly  called  home. 

"You  Americans  are  so  excitable,"  I^ady 
Fortescue  said  the  next  morning,  as  she  sat  at  the 


154  HER  LADYSHIP. 

breakfast  table  with  Alice.  "  Here  I  am,  routed 
out  of  my  bed  at  daybreak,  to  come  and  tell  you 
that  Aunt  Cecilia  is  a  perfect  old  war  horse,  and 
that  you  will  have  to  treat  her  with  a  little  tact. 
Bear  easy  on  the  reins,  my  dear. ' ' 

"  You  need  not  be  trying  to  help,  me  out  with 
the  fiction  that  I  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
driving  at  all,"  Alice  said.  "You  must  know 
that  I  am  a  perfect  nobody  in  that  house. ' ' 

' '  Ah,  but  my  dear,  my  dear, ' '  Theo  remon- 
strated, "you  surely  think  too  highly  of  your 
marriage  vows  to  leave  your  husband  for  any  such 
trivial  reason  as  that. ' ' 

"You  know  it  is  not  for  that.      You  know  !  " 

' '  I  know  what  ? ' ' — innocentty.  ' '  I  assure  you, 
my  dear  child,  that  I  know  nothing.  I  am  sure 
Algy  does  not  understand  exactly.  He  said 
something  about  your  seeing  him  in  a  cab  with 
that  Mrs.  Welles  from  down  in  the  country. 
Now,  of  course,  some  women  might  dislike  that, 
but  surely  you  are  too  .sensible.  You  know — or 
perhaps  you  do  not  know — but  Mrs.  Welles  was 
once,  so  I  have  heard,  quite  entangled  with  the 
family."  Theo  looked  at  her  narrowly.  She 
con  Id  hardly  believe  that  Alice  had  swallowed 
the  story  that  Captain  Innis  had  told  her,  and  of 
which  L,ady  Fortescue  had  heard.  It  was  a 
tremendous  joke  if  she  had.  "Arthur  Inuis 
never  was  at  all  straitlaced. ' ' 


HER  LADYSHIP.  155 

"  Captain  Innis'  friends  are  nothing  to  me." 

"Oh,  no,  certainly  not !  But  poor  Algy  thought 
that  you  were  angry  because  he  rode  across  Lon- 
don with  Mrs.  Welles.  Perhaps  it  was  not  nice, 
but  he  had  a  very  ticklish  commission  on  hand. 
I  think  myself  that  he  ought  to  have  confided  in 
you,  but  then  you  know  that  is  never  a  man's 
way.  They  never  can  bear  to  talk  a  thing  over 
with  a  woman  until  they  are  obliged  to.  Algy 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  try  and  get  Mrs.  Welles 
away  from  Salby,  and  you  ought  to  know  that 
such  cases  require  some  concessions.  Now,  may 
heaven  forgive  me,  most  of  that  is  true  !  "  Lady 
Fortescue  added  the  last  sentence  in  soliloquy. 
"  Don't  be  hard  on  Algy,"  she  went  on  aloud. 
' '  You  must  understand,  my  dear,  that  he  has  a 
little  different  way  of  looking  at  things.  He  has 
been  brought  up  differently.  He  wouldn't  con- 
sider it  quite  nice  to  talk  to  a  young  woman  like 
you  of  some  things. ' ' 

' '  I  am  his  wife. ' ' 

"  All  the  more  reason.  He  was  furious  with 
his  uncle  for  telling  you  anything  about  Mrs. 
Welles,  and  more  furious  with  his  mother.  After 
all,  I  believe,  she  will  not  bite.  Of  course,  he 
never  expected  you  to  go  about  alone  and  pick 
up  acquaintances.  And  ' ' — Theo  drew  a  long 
breath — "  he  naturally  was  angry  at  your  giving 
people  a  chance  to  talk  by  going  to  Belding. 


156  HER   LADYSHIP. 

He  is  not  of  our  class  at  all.  He  is  a  very 
decent  chap,  I  suppose,  but — you  must  under- 
stand. Now  confess  you  were  a  little  wrong. ' ' 

"I  may  be." 

"You  mean  you  were.  You  are  coming  back 
with  me,  and  it  is  all  going  to  be  forgotten." 

' '  I  cannot  come  back  now.  I  am  going  to 
stay  here,  or  go  somewhere  on  the  coast,  until 
my  father  and  mother  come. ' ' 

"Until " 

"Until  my  father  and  mother  come,"  Alice 
repeated.  ' '  I  am  going  to  take  a  house  for 
them  in  London,  and  I  am  going  to  write  the 
whole  story  to  my  father.  He  is  the  one  to 
decide  this  matter  for  me.  I  need  my  own 
people."  She  was  standing  by  the  window, 
looking  out  into  the  busy  streets,  full  of  thou- 
sands of  hurrying  strangers.  "  I  am  very  much 
alone  here,"  she  said  almost  in  a  whisper.  A  mist 
of  self  pity  came  over  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  but  a  woman  should  not  feel  at  all  alone 
with  her  husband  and  her  husband's  people," 
Theo  said  briskly.  She  did  not  like  Alice,  and 
she  was  a  little  contemptuous  of  her,  as  one  who 
had  no  worldly  knowledge  of  her  opport unities  ; 
but  she  said  "  Poor  thing  !  "  under  her  breath. 
Outwardly,  she  laughed.  "Alice,  I  wouldn't 
write  to  my  parents  if  I  were  you.  That  is 
rather  a  cowardly  thing  to  do,  isn't  it?  All 


HER  LADYSHIP.  157 

young  married  people  quarrel.  It  is  a  sort  of 
honor  with  them  not  to  bring  in  anybody  else. 
It  makes  it  ever  so  much  harder  in  the  end. 
Outside  people  cannot  understand  the  least  little 
bit.  Now  if  I  had  a  daughter  who  had  married, 
and  who  came  home  telling  me  her  woes,  I  should 
pack  her  back  to  her  husband  again  and  tell  her 
to  fight  her  battles  as  I  fought  mine.  I  wouldn't 
send  for  my  father  and  mother  if  I  were  in  your 
place." 

"  They  were  coming  any  way." 

' '  The)*'  would  be  the  last  people  in  the  world 
to  want  to  stir  up  dissensions  between  you  and 
your  husband." 

' '  And  you  think  that  their  coming  will  do 
that  ?  "  Alice  turned  round,  two  red  spots  burn- 
ing in  her  cheeks.  "  Haven't  my  people  a  right 
to  come  to  London  if  they  choose?  Am  I — 
because  I  happened  to  marry  an  English  earl — to 
be  cut  off  from  any  ties  of  affection  ?  Am  I  lost, 
or  are  they,  to  all  human  feeling?  " 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  a  little  selfish,"  Theo 
murmured.  ' '  But  you  will  come  home  if  I  will 
wait  for  you  a  day  or  two  ?  ' ' 

"  No,  I  am  going  somewhere  on  the  coast 
with  Celeste." 

Theo  hesitated,  and  then  with  a  grimace  she 
made  a  proposition  which  cost  her  much.  "I 
will  come  with  you,  if  you  care  to  have  me," 


158  HER   LADYSHIP. 

But  her  sacrifice  was  not  accepted. 

"  I  do  uot  want  any  one,"  Alice  said.  "I 
want  to  go  off  somewhere  by  myself  and  thiuk. 
One  thing  I  have  determined  upon.  I  will  ask 
my  people  here,  and  engage  a  house  for  them. 
I  want  them,  and  I  have  a  right  to  have  them." 

Lady  Fortescue  felt  that  she  had  done  enough, 
and  so  she  told  her  cousin  when  she  met  him  in 
her  apartment  an  hour  after  she  had  seen  Alice. 

"  I  said  about  everything.  I  brought  in  her 
marriage  vow,  and  your  career,  and  nothing 
seemed  to  move  her.  She  is  going  to  bring  over 
her  brood  of  Americans,  whatever  comes.  You 
always  were  a  fool,  Algy,  and  you  have  been 
pressing  the  poor  child  too  hard.  And  this 
last  escapade  !  You  told  me  you  had  given 
that " 

"  It  isn't  worth  while  to  discuss  that  matter," 
Lurgan  hastily  interposed.  "  I  cannot  let  Alice 
behave  like  this.  She  shall  not  make  a  scandal. 
She  shall  come  home. ' ' 

"  Sh — sh — !  It  will  be  you  who  will  make  the 
scandal.  Let  her  have  her  head  for  a  little  while. 
I  have  persuaded  her  that  in  this  last  episode  she 
has  mistaken  you.  But  there  are  other  things. 
Let  her  go  to  Brighton,  or  somewhere,  for  a  week 
or  two,  and  direct  your  energies  to  the  other 
side  of  the  Atlantic.  What  sort  of  a  woman  is 
her  stepmother  ?  " 


XVII. 

T  N  three  days  Alice  was  in  a  lodging  house  in 
Brighton,  with  her  maid  and  a  man  servant. 
She  had  received  a  note  from  L,urgan,  expressing 
his  disappointment  at  not  seeing  her  for  several 
days,  as  business  made  it  necessary  for  him  to 
run  over  to  Paris.  His  cousin  had  told  him  that 
she  wanted  to  go  to  the  seaside  for  a  little  while. 
He  inclosed  some  bank  notes  and  some  blank 
checks,  and  had  taken  the  liberty  of  sending  her 
a  man  servant  of  unusual  intelligence.  The  note 
was  entirely  respectful,  and  there  was  no  hint  of 
a  quarrel  anywhere. 

She  discovered  another  agent,  and  from  him 
engaged  a  house  for  her  father  ;  and  it  was  with 
more  than  a  degree  of  reluctance  that  she  filled 
out  one  of  I/urgau's  checks  to  pay  the  sum  neces- 
sary to  insure  the  place  being  kept  for  her.  Then 
she  went  down  to  Brighton. 

It  was  warm  and  balmy  here,  much  more  so 
than  at  Salby  Chase,  but  she  was  oblivious  to  the 
weather.  She  was  confronting  what  she  felt  to 
be  the  problem  of  her  life.  And  yet  she  had 
thought  the  same  thing  only  a  few  short  months 


160  HER  LADYSHIP. 

before,  when  she  gave  up  Chris.  L,ife  was  grow- 
ing too  full  of  problems. 

She  wandered  out  on  the  piers,  and  sat  on  the 
benches  for  hours  at  a  time,  watching  the  ships 
and  yachts  go  by,  and  unutterably  lonely.  She 
wanted  Connie's  hearty  laughter,  her  father's 
handsome  face  and  courteous  gentleness,  her 
stepmother's  strong  character.  More  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  world,  she  wanted — Chris  !  She 
did  not  let  herself  think  his  name,  but  Chris  him- 
self, Chris  who  had  always  been  her  compass, 
who  had  always  been  there,  not  to  advise,  but  to 
act — the  want  of  him  was  so  bitter  that  she  felt 
she  could  not  live  without  him.  She  never  had 
learned  to  live  without  him,  and  when  she  tried 
it,  what  a  wretched  failure  she  was  making  of  it ! 

She  had  not  written  of  any  trouble  with  Lurgan 
to  her  stepmother,  but  she  had  written  a  short 
letter  to  her  father,  in  which  she  had  told  him 
that  she  had  discovered  that  all  of  her  dowry  had 
gone  to  her  husband,  and  asking  him  to  give 
her  an  allowance.  Money  had  been  the  one 
thing  which  Mr.  Sanderson  had  given  to  her  in 
unlimited  fashion.  It  had  no  particular  value  in 
her  eyes.  She  would  not  tell  him  yet ;  perhaps 
she  never  would  tell  him,  that  she  had  been  hurt 
and  insulted  by  her  husband.  Everything  would 
be  set  right  when  they  came  over.  She  had 
gone  through  the  great  rooms  of  the  house  she 


HER  LADYSHIP.  161 

had  taken  for  them,  and  had  seeu,  iu  fancy,  her 
father's  home  established  there.  What  a  haven 
it  would  be  !  They  would  know  I,ady  Lurgan 
and  her  husband,  they  would  learn  that  she 
could  not  be  treated  like  a  child.  She  had 
always  seen  the  combination  of  her  father's 
wealth  and  her  stepmother's  tact  so  powerful 
that  nothing  seemed  impossible  to  them. 

And  then,  deep  down  in  her  heart,  was  a 
lurking  thought  to  which  she  would  not  give  a 
place.  She  would  at  least  hear  all  about  Chris. 
Her  heart  was  fairly  hungry  to  hear  somebody 
pronounce  his  name.  She  might  have  grown  to 
forget  him  had  she  been  only  passably  happy. 
She  tried  to  remember  that  he  had  not  loved  her, 
but  she  felt  that  although  he  might  not  have 
loved  her  as  a  man  should  love  his  wife,  although 
he  had  been  glad  to  know  that  she  was  the  wife 
of  another,  and  that  all  of  his  responsibility  in 
the  matter  of  her  happiness  was  ended,  yet  he 
had  loved  her  like  a  brother. 

Alice  had  cabled  at  once  that  the  house  was 
taken,  and  had  written,  begging  them  to  come 
I  immediately.  She  wanted  to  see  her  husband 
again  from  her  father's  side.  She  felt  that  she 
could  not  bear  to  go  back  to  the  humiliation  of 
the  past  few  weeks. 

Every  day  she  looked  for  a  cable  saying  when 
she  might  expect  them.  The  time  for  letters 


1 62  HER  LADYSHIP. 

came  and  passed,  and  still  no  message.  It  was 
almost  three  weeks  before  Celeste  came  up  one 
morning  and  brought  her  the  thick  American 
letter  with  her  stepmother's  well  known  hand- 
writing on  the  envelope. 

She  broke  it  open,  and  fairly  devoured  it  with 
her  eyes.  As  she  read  on  and  on,  her  face  grew 
pale,  and  lines  too  old  for  its  delicate  outlines 
seemed  to  settle  about  her  mouth  and  eyes.  She 
read  it  two  or  three  times,  as  if  she  could  not 
quite  believe  in  it ;  then  she  turned  over  on  her 
pillow  as  she  had  done  another  morning  when 
her  stepmother  had  given  her  words  of  counsel, 
and  felt  that  life  was  hopeless. 

After  a  long  time,  she  called  Celeste,  and 
asked  for  a  telegraph  blank.  Her  pen  hesitated 
over  it  after  it  was  under  her  hand,  but  she 
finally  wrote  to  her  husband  in  Paris  : 

I  ain  ready  to  return  to  Salby  Chase  when  you  come 
for  me. 

A.  I/URGAN. 


XVIII. 

\\T HEN  our  lives  are  running  along  in  their 
accustomed  grooves,  and  we  are  as  fairly 
happy  as  the  restless  leaven  of  life  will  allow  us 
to  be  ;  when  we  are  in  distress,  or  when  we  have 
for  its  brief  instant  the  intoxicating  wine  of  life 
before  us — at  all  times  we  are  self  centered. 
The  tragedy  of  another's  life  may  play  itself  out 
before  us,  but  we  are  too  busy  watching  the 
cues  of  our  own  exits  and  entrances  to  pay  much 
attention. 

The  third  year  of  Alice's  married  life  was 
wearing  itself  away,  and  she  was  beginning  to 
wonder  what  sort  of  a  young  girl  that  Alice 
Sanderson  had  been  who  had  taken  life  so 
tragically.  She  was  somewhere  back  there  in 
the  dusk  of  time,  in  the  chaotic  beginning  of 
things. 

To  the  people  she  had  left  behind  in  Chicago 
she  was  ' '  that  pretty  Miss  Sanderson  who 
married  the  Karl  of  I^urgan  the  other  day." 
No  one  seemed  to  wonder  why  she  never  came 
home.  They  had  never  expected  that  she  would 
come  back.  What  could  Chicago  be,  except 
163 


1 64  HER  LADYSHIP. 

dull  and  stupid,  to  one  who  was  accustomed  to 
the  glitter  of  foreign  courts,  and  to  great  old 
English  country  houses,  and  all  the  gauds  of  life 
among  the  aristocracy  gilded  by  American  mill- 
ions ?  When  the  Chicago  people  thought  of  Alice, 
it  was  in  a  court  train  with  feathers  in  her  hair, 
making  her  bow  to  her  sovereign,  or  as  enter- 
taining princes  and  potentates. 

She  had  been  at  court,  not  once,  but  three 
seasons,  since  her  marriage,  and  had  had  her  name 
in  the  lists  of  fashionable  people  in  London  almost 
the  regulation  number  of  times.  Not  quite,  per- 
haps ;  for  the  Lurgans  were  not  ultra  fashionable. 
There  was  a  lack  on  both  sides  of  the  family 
which  prevented  that.  Lurgan  had  not  taken  to 
politics,  as  his  mother  had  hoped.  He  had  been 
too  easily  turned  aside,  and  had  found  more 
amusement  on  the  turf  and  in  other  like  ventures, 
to  take  the  position  of  a  solid  English  supporter 
of  the  crown.  The  elder  Lady  Lurgan  was  in 
the  habit  of  laying  all  his  shortcomings  to  the  fact 
that  there  was  no  heir  to  the  house,  and  some- 
times expressed  her  opinion  in  public  as  well  as 
in  the  semi  privacy  of  the  family  circle. 

It  was  very  seldom  that  the  family  circle  was 
not  stretched  to  include  half  a  dozen  people,  now- 
adays, and  they  were  always  Lurgan' s  friends. 
Alice  had  made  almost  none.  Now  and  then  she 
met  a  compatriot  who  attracted  her,  but  they 


HER  LADYSHIP.  165 

generally  began  talking  of  people  and  events  in 
America  of  which  she  knew  nothing.  She  had 
come  away  so  young,  her  social  life  had  been  so 
short,  and  she  had  not  seen  her  family  since  her 
marriage.  She  thought  bitterly  that  she  had  no 
home,  as  other  people  knew  the  term. 

L,urgan's  latest  venture  was  a  theater.  He 
was  backing  an  actress  who  had  made  a  phenom- 
enal success,  the  season  before,  in  one  of  those 
plays  with  long  names  and  short  morals.  She 
was  a  woman  who  had  had  something  of  a  story, 
one  that  had  enlisted  the  interest  of  a  great  many 
people.  Just  at  the  moment  she  was  the  fad  of 
one  or  two  women  of  fashion,  one  of  whom,  as  a 
consequence,  had  been  thrown  very  much  with 
L,urgan,  and  was  just  now  a  guest  at  Salby  Chase. 

Mrs.  Henderson  was  one  of  those  women  who 
are  eternally  restless,  externally  looking  about 
for  some  mental  excitement  or  dissipation,  and 
usually  finding  it  in  amore  or  less  original  fashion, 
which  puts  them  momentarily  in  the  eye  of  the 
curious  public.  Her  husband  was  the  sou  of  an 
ancient  family  which  had  transmitted  glory  and 
fame,  as  well  as  fortune,  to  its  descendants, 
placing  them,  in  the  estimation  of  the  old  society 
in  which  they  lived,  far  above  the  titles  of  most 
of  the  people  who  were  their  friends.  John 
Henderson  Henderson,  of  Castle  Bevin,  was  a 
name  which  shame  had  never  stained,  and  if,  for 


1 66  HER  LADYSHIP. 

a  generation  or  two,  it  had  not  shone  with 
especial  brilliancy  in  some  ways,  it  had  in  others  ; 
for  the  present  Henderson  was  the  best  known 
big  game  hunter  in  England. 

When  he  was  very  young,  he  had  married  one 
of  four  sisters  famous  for  their  beauty  and  chic. 
Their  mother,  a  good  natured  woman  who  had 
been  a  social  success  herself,  had  brought  out  all 
four  within  two  short  seasons  ;  and  while  other 
mothers  looked  on  in  amazement  at  her  temerity, 
she  had  married  them  all  off  to  the  most  eligible 
men  to  be  found.  They  were  tall,  rather  curious 
looking  young  women  with  fine  necks,  slender 
waists,  and  a  great  deal  of  hair.  They  had  worn 
astonishing  frocks,  and  their  photographs  were 
sold  in  the  shop  windows  by  the  side  of  those  of 
the  royal  family,  with  their  names  printed  in  gilt 
letters  beneath. 

Mrs.  Henderson  had  attracted  more  attention 
than  her  sisters,  because  she  had  more  audacity. 
At  the  time  of  Alice's  marriage  she  was  in 
America,  somewhere  in  the  Northwest,  with  her 
husband.  They  had  spent  eighteen  months  in 
a  cabin  in  the  mountains,  and  had  shot  grizzly 
bears  and  all  the  other  wild  animals  which 
abounded  in  that  region,  bringing  home  the 
skins  and  innumerable  photographs.  Mrs.  Hen- 
derson had  seen  her  pictures  in  the  London  maga- 
zines and  weeklies  for  months  afterward,  taken 


HER  LADYSHIP.  167 

in  her  buckskin  leggings,  with  her  rifle  in  her 
hand,  or  on  snow  shoes,  and  in  every  other 
fashion  known  to  sporting  illustration. 

The  new  actress,  and  more  particularly  the 
author  who  wrote  her  plays,  were  Mrs.  Hender- 
son's new  passport  to  advertising.  She  had  taken 
Lord  Lurgan  into  a  sort  of  partnership.  She 
said  she  found  it  necessary  to  have  masculine 
advice,  and  Mr.  Henderson  was  in  Africa. 

An  American,  seeing  Mrs.  Henderson  loaf 
across  the  lawn  at  Salby  Chase,  would  have 
failed  to  observe  the  beauty  which  was  supposed 
to  have  made  her  famous.  She  was  the  farthest 
remove  from  the  type  that  is  considered  most 
attractive  in  the  United  States.  Her  hands  and 
feet  were  slender  and  well  shaped  but  large  ;  her 
waist  was  too  short,  her  legs  too  long,  her  black 
lashed  eyes  too  large,  her  hair  too  exuberant. 
To  American  eyes  she  was  distinctly  bad  style, 
and  Alice  looked  at  her  with  a  sense  of  repulsion 
which  she  analyzed  as  the  result  of  an  irritation 
of  her  sense  of  good  taste,  rather  than  as  any 
actual  dislike  or  disapproval. 

It  was  almost  tea  time,  and  guests  from  the 
house  were  wandering  down  to  the  terrace  where 
Alice  had  established  herself  under  the  trees. 
Lady  Fortescue,  in  the  last  stages  of  mourning 
for  her  husband,  who  had  been  dead  a  little  more 
than  two  years,  sat  by  Alice's  side.  She  had 


1 68  HER  LADYSHIP. 

shaded  off  from  black  to  violet  and  whites  as 
artistically  as  if  she  had  been  a  basket  of  pansies 
made  up  by  a  fashionable  florist.  The  delicate 
colors  were  not  particularly  becoming  to  her,  and 
they  made  her  peevish.  They  seemed  to  absorb 
some  of  her  exuberance.  They  were  not  at  all  the 
sort  of  thing  she  would  have  chosen  to  wear  of 
her  own  accord,  but  her  martyrdom  to  convention 
was  almost  over.  It  was  over  altogether,  so  far 
as  the  convention  of  grief  was  concerned. 

To  Alice  the  talk  was  tiresome.  It  was  free 
and  easy,  after  a  fashion,  but  with  a  restraint 
which  she  was  quite  conscious  they  would  not 
feel  in  the  smoking  room  at  night,  or  even  out  here 
after  dinner,  when  she  was  sitting  quietly  indoors. 
It  was  simply  the  chitter  chatter  of  a  half  dozen 
people  who  had  many  of  the  same  pursuits. 

The  new  wings  had  been  built  at  the  Chase, 
and  the  project  just  now  under  discussion  was 
the  turning  of  one  of  the  large  new  rooms  into  a 
theater.  Alice  did  not  let  a  ripple  of  annoyance 
touch  her  mind,  though  nobody  thought  it  worth 
while  to  ask  her  opinion  concerning  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  house.  That  was  L,urgau's  province. 

"  You  surely  would  like  to  see  me  act,"  Mrs. 
Henderson  said,  her  eyes  looking  up  into  Lur- 
gan's  face. 

' '  What  sort  of  parts  do  you  prefer  to  play, 
Mrs.  Henderson?"  young  Tannehill  asked. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  169 

"  Oh,  the  lady  who  wears  the  lovely  gowns  and 
behaves  wickedly.  There's  no  fun  in  being  good 
on  the  stage.  One  is  obliged  to  be  good  in. real 
life  every  day.  There  is  no  sense  in  going  into 
theatricals  simply  to  play  over  again  what  one 
does  ever)'  day.  It  is  the  delight  of  being  really 
devilish  now  and  then.  Did  you  never  notice 
what  a  popular  character  Forget- Me- Not  has 
always  been  ?  Now  my  favorite  character,  if  I 
could  choose,  would  be " 

' '  Rebellious  Susan  ?  ' '  Lady  Fortescue  asked 
politely. 

"  Not  exactly.  I  think  I  should  enjoy  being 
the  young  lady  who  sings  in  the  music  halls,  and 
talks  back  to  the  audience.  She  appears  to  me 
to  have  no  end  of  a  pleasant  time — and  so  excit- 
ing !  We  know  pretty  generally  what  people  are 
going  to  say  in  our  own  set,  and  our  powers  of 
repartee  get  rusted  from  lying  idle.  There 
must  be  such  a  sameness  in  our  answers." 

"  Now  I  should  never  accuse  you  of  anything 
of  that  sort,"  Lurgan  said.  "It  seems  to  me 
that  you  give  us  variety." 

"I  quite  agree  with  my  cousin,"  Lady 
Fortescue  added. 

' '  How  good  of  you  ! ' '  Mrs.  Henderson  smiled 
with  the  expression  of  receiving  a  compliment 
hovering  about  her  mouth. 

Captain  Innis,  who  had  taken  his  tea  to  the 


1 70  HER  LADYSHIP. 

stone  steps  which  ran  down  to  the  Italian  garden 
below,  chuckled  a  little.  He  liked  Lady  Fortescue, 
but  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  rejoice 
over  her  fight  for  supremacy.  She  had  been  the 
smartest  woman  in  the  company  for  so  long  that 
she  hardly  knew  how  to  treat  this  new  claimant 
for  honors. 

"  Why  not  turn  the  wing  room  into  a  music 
hall  ?  ' '  Lurgan  suggested. 

"  That  will  be  easy  enough  at  any  time.  First 
let  us  have  a  stage  and  some  scenery.  Let  us  do 
it  now,  while  I  am  down  here.  I  want  to  help  to 
arrange  it." 

"  There  isn't  any  reason  that  I  can  see." 

"Come  along  and  let  us  look  at  it,"  Mrs. 
Henderson  said  impulsively,  rising  to  her  feet. 
' '  Let  me  see  what  it  is  like.  I  have  forgotten 
the  dimensions." 

She  started  toward  the  house,  only  Lurgan 
following,  and  then  she  turned  back.  The  half 
smile  on  Lady  Fortescue' s  lips  had  nothing  what- 
ever to  do  with  her  turning. 

"  Won't  you  come  along,  Lady  Lurgan?  "  she 
said  affably,  and  when  Alice  smiled  and  shook 
her  head,  she  went  on:  "You  don't  mind  my 
running  off  with  Lurgan  for  a  little  while  ?  I'm 
awfully  anxious  to  see  that  room,  you  know." 

"Not  in  the  least." 

"That  woman  is  the  most  insufferable  creature 


HER  LADYSHIP.  171 

alive,"  Lady  Fortescue  said.  "I  beg  your 
pardon,  Alice,  but  I  really  cannot  understand 
why  you  tolerate  her." 

"She  simply  does  not  annoy  me  at  all.  She 
is  not  my  guest. ' ' 

"Whose  is  she,  then?  Surely  not  Aunt 
Cecilia's?"  Lady  Fortescue  knew  quite  well, 
but  she  was  in  the  disagreeable  humor  that  wishes 
to  force  unpleasant  subjects  to  the  front. 

Alice  laughed  aloud. 

"  You  have  not  been  in  to  see  Lady  Lurgan, 
then  ?  She  went  to  Scotland  this  morning. ' ' 

"  I  usually  wait  for  Aunt  Cecilia  to  seek  my 
society,  my  dear,"  Lady  Fortescue  said  ;  and 
then  a  determination  took  her,  and  she  arose, 
shook  out  the  frills  of  her  gown,  and  put  up  her 
parasol. 

"  Mr.  Tannehill,"  she  said  to  the  young  man, 
who  had  looked  disconsolate  since  Mrs.  Hender- 
son had  left  them,  "let  us  go  and  see  if  that 
wing  room  will  do  for  a  theater ; ' '  and  they 
walked  away  together. 

Everybody  had  gone,  and  Alice,  sitting  there 
alone  in  her  wicker  chair,  turned  again  to  her 
book,  to  whose  companionship  she  was  becoming 
more  and  more  accustomed.  It  was  something 
of  a  relief  to  have  her  husband's  mother  away. 
It  had  long  been  a  theory  of  Lady  Lurgan's  life 
that  anything  could  be  brought  about  by  force  of 


172  HER  LADYSHIP. 

will,  and  she  had  not  yet  realized  that  she  had 
an  impossible  task  in  trying  to  bring  her  son  and 
his  wife  together  again.  Nothing  would  make 
her  see  that  she  had  had  anything  to  do  with 
separating  them,  and  she  bitterly  upbraided  fate 
for  having  taken  the  dominion  over  the  earl  out 
of  her  hands.  The  son  who  had  looked  to  her  to 
manage  his  estates,  to  get  money  out  of  them 
for  his  expenses,  and  still  keep  them  intact,  was 
a  different  son  from  the  rich  young  man  whose 
income  was  almost  princely.  He  would  not 
quarrel  with  his  mother,  but  even  into  the  house 
which  she  had  called  hers  ever  since  she  had 
come  to  it  a  bride  he  was  bringing  guests  of 
whom  she  disapproved. 

Lady  Fortescue  and  Tannehill  went  up  to  the 
house  and  over  the  soft  rugs  of  the  great  hall 
leading  into  the  new  ball  room  which  was  to  be 
made  into  the  theater.  The  place  was  large  and 
scantily  furnished,  with  great  divans  running 
along  the  walls.  As  the  two  entered,  lifting  the 
portieres  which  hung  inside  the  doors,  they  could 
see  I/urgan  and  Mrs.  Henderson  at  the  other  end 
of  the  floor.  They  were  not  looking  at  the 
dimensions  of  the  room.  Lurgan  was  holding 
Mrs.  Henderson's  hand,  while  she  stood  with  her 
tall,  exaggerated  figure  silhouetted  against  the 
afternoon  light  streaming  through  a  window  out 
of  which  she  looked  indifferently. 


XIX. 

URGAN  and  his  wife  saw  little  of  each  other 
in  these  days.  He  came  and  went,  and  she 
asked  no  questions  ;  nor  did  he  ask  any  when 
she  took  her  maid  and  went  up  to  lyondon  for  a 
few  days.  When  she  went  through  that  first 
I/ondon  season  she  added  nothing  to  her  popu- 
larity. She  had  been  a  cold  and  a  dead  woman. 
She  had  not  even  asked,  or  thought,  whether  or 
not  Mrs.  Welles  occupied  the  little  house  which 
Lurgan  had  rented.  She  had  disappeared  from 
the  neighborhood  of  Salby,  but  Alice  found  her- 
self thinking  that  she  would  not  have  cared  much 
if  the  woman  were  still  there.  It  was  no  particu- 
lar concern  of  hers.  I^urgan  was  as  nothing  to 
her. 

She  had  almost  ceased,  in  these  three  years,  to 
pity  herself.  It  is  the  bitter,  miserable  tears  of 
self  pity  which  wear  out  the  heart  and  the  brain  ; 
but  Alice  had  too  much  character  to  give  way  to 
this  indulgence.  She  began  to  have  that  terrible 
cynicism  of  the  young  who  have  never  realized 
an  ideal'.  Even  her  father  had  failed  her.  When 
she  had  put  down  that  letter  from  her  stepmother 
173 


174  HER  LADYSHIP. 

which  had  come  in  the  midst  of  her  rebellion, 
she  had  found  herself  possessed  of  a  calmness 
which  was  almost  calculating  in  its  coldness. 
It  was  as  if  her  heart  had  been  suddenly  cased 
in  an  armor  of  ice.  She  lay  there  among  her 
pillows  as  she  had  lain  on  that  earlier  day  when 
her  stepmother  had  come  to  her,  and  felt  that 
life  held  nothing  for  her. 

The  letter  told  her  that  her  father  had  had 
great  losses  ;  that  he  had  thought  it  best  to  give 
Alice's  dowry  to  her  husband,  as  every  wife's 
duty  was  to  her  husband,  and  her  husband's 
home  should  be  hers  ;  that  he  was  bitterly  dis- 
appointed that  she  had  shown  so  little  self  con- 
trol, so  much  childishness.  He  was  ill,  Mrs. 
Sanderson  wrote,  and  nothing  would  do  him  any 
good  but  the  assurance  that  Alice  had  gone  back 
to  her  husband.  They  would  not  come  to  Lon- 
don this  year,  but  go  to  Alaska.  There  was  a 
little  hint,  too,  that  she  hoped  that  Alice  would 
not  ruin  Connie's  happiness  by  making  a  scandal 
in  the  family. 

Alice  had  looked  the  question  squarely  in  the 
face,  and  had  gone  back.  What  else  was  there 
for  her  to  do  ?  How  could  she  know  that  her 
appeal  had  never  reached  her  father,  that  Lurgan 
had  written  a  long  letter  to  her  stepmother, 
giving  her  some  frank  statements,  telling  her 
that  Alice  was  unmanageable,  and  was  threaten- 


HER  LADYSHIP.  175 

ing  to  leave  him  when  her  family  came  to  Lon- 
don? An  earl  for  a  son  in  law,  and  then  a 
scandal — that  would  be  a  downfall  of  Mrs.  Sander- 
son's  house  of  cards  which  she  could  not  tolerate. 

The  house  at  Salby  Chase  was  filling  with 
guests.  It  was  not  far  from  one  of  the  great 
watering  places,  and  it  was  the  season  for  the 
sea  shore.  I^urgan's  new  yacht,  the  "  Au 
Revoir,"  lay  at  anchor  near  by.  A  great  ball,  a 
play  in  the  new  theater,  to  be  hastily  improvised, 
and  plans  for  a  series  of  other  gaieties,  were 
making  the  place  alive  with  enthusiasm.  Mrs. 
Henderson,  with  her  insolent  face,  her  deep 
voice,  and  her  loafing  gait,  seemed  to  be  direct- 
ing things  everywhere. 

At  dinner  one  night  in  the  midst  of  the  prepara- 
tions, a  servant  stood  respectfully  at  Alice's 
elbow,  and,  as  he  offered  her  a  dish,  slipped  a 
telegram  beside  her  plate.  As  she  slit  it  open, 
and  saw  that  it  was  a  cable,  she  grew  a  little 
paler,  but  made  no  comment.  There  was  only 
one  line  : 

Papa  very  ill.    Sail  at  once. 

CONNIE. 

She  knew  the  steamers,  and  their  sailings. 
Her  eye  could  never  slip  by  that  column  in  the 
papers.  As  she  sat  there  answering  questions, 
speaking  calmly  and  evenly  and  as  usual,  her 
mind  made  calculations.  If  she  started  that 


176  HER  LADYSHIP. 

night  she  could  reach  Southampton  in  time  for 
the  sailing  of  one  of  the  fast  ships.  The  train 
would  leave  London  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. She  finished  her  dinner,  and  when  the 
ladies  rose  from  the  table  she  went  into  the 
drawing  room  with  her  guests,  but  stopped  only 
a  moment.  Then  she  flew  up  to  Celeste. 

"  Celeste,"  she  said  breathlessly,  her  heart 
beating  now  so  that  she  could  hardly  speak, 
"my  father  is  ill.  We  sail  for  America  to- 
morrow morning. ' ' 

"  But,  my  lady,  the  tickets  !  I  think  at  this 
season ' ' 

' '  There  are  always  some  berths.  I  go  if  I  go 
in  the  steerage.  Pack  at  once. ' ' 

Alice  began  to  take  off  her  white  dinner  gown 
with  shaking  fingers.  She  had  had  no  time 
for  grief.  Even  death  could  not  take  her  people 
farther  away  from  her  than  they  had  been  ;  and 
of  death  she  could  not  think.  She  was  numbed. 
She  only  knew  that  there  must  be  action ;  that 
she  was  going  away  from  here;  that  she  was 
going  back  to  America,  and  that  somewhere 
there  was  her  lost  girlhood.  She  drew  in  a  long 
breath,  and  in  it  she  felt  her  native  air. 

She  had  changed  her  dress,  and  was  moving 
about  putting  things  into  bags,  folding,  gather- 
ing together  her  toilet  appliances,  when  there 
was  a  sharp  rap  at  the  door. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  177 

"  Come,"  she  said  unthinkingly,  and  her  hus- 
band stood  in  the  doorway.  She  looked  at  him 
startled,  and  with  some  embarrassment.  It  had 
been  months  since  he  had  come  near  the  threshold 
of  her  apartments,  but  he  walked  quickly  in  and 
closed  the  door. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Are  you 
ill,  that  you  are  not  down  stairs?  " 

' '  No,  I  am  preparing  to  go  home.  My  father 
is  very  ill.  They  have  cabled  for  me.  I  am 
going  to  sail  for  America  tomorrow.  I  have 
sent  Celeste  to  telegraph  for  tickets. ' ' 

' '  Do  you  think  it  necessary  ?  We  have — er — 
there  is  a  large  party  in  the  house.  Would  it 
not  be  well  to  cable  over  and  ask  for  particulars  ? 
Probably  it  is  some  slight  attack  which  is  not  at 
all  serious.  It  will  take  you  almost  ten  days 
to  reach  Chicago,  and  in  that  time  he  may 
have " 

"  Died,"  Alice  finished  calmly. 

' '  If  you  care  to  put  it  in  that  way,  yes.  He 
will  have  done  that  or  have  recovered.  In 
any  case  it  can  hardly  be  necessary  for  you  to 
go." 

"I  am  going."  Her  lips  were  compressed, 
and  she  did  not  look  at  him. 

"You  surely  cannot  expect  to  leave  a  house 
full  of  guests  in  this  fashion,  with  people  coming 
every  day?" 


178  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"  Not  my  guests — yours.  They  will  uot  miss 
me  ; ' '  and  then  she  stood  up  beside  the  trunk 
which  she  had  pulled  from  a  closet.  "  Do  you 
suppose  that  I  would  stay  away  for  anybody  or 
anything  ?  My  father  is  my  one  close  relative — 
the  one  person  in  the  world  to  me. ' ' 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  you  made  a  vow  once 
to  leave  your  father  and  mother."  I/urgan 
spoke  almost  with  flippancy. 

"  We  will  not  discuss  that  now,  if  you  please. 
I  am  going  to  America  tomorrow." 

1 '  You  surely  do  not  expect  me  to  go  with 
you?" 

"  Most  certainly  not." 

"  I  suppose  I  might  telegraph  for  my 
mother?" 

"Or  let  Lady  Fortescue  act  as  hostess.  She 
will  make  a  better  one  than  I." 

"Perhaps  that  would  be  just  as  well."  He 
arose  from  the  couch  where  he  had  been  sitting, 
holding  his  hands  around  his  knees.  "  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  say  that  your  father  is  dangerously 
ill.  I  will  simply  say  that  you  are  called  to 
America  on  business.  Theo  can  carry  on  the 
house  party  here,  at  least  until  mother's  return." 
He  got  as  far  as  the  door,  and  then  he  turned 
again.  "  What  time  do  you  leave  ?  " 

"  On  the  midnight  train." 

"  I  suppose  I  might  as  well  say  good  by  now — 


HER  LADYSHIP.  179 

unless  you  would  care  to  have  me  go  up  to  I/>n- 
dou  with  you  ?  " 

"No." 

' '  Then  good  by.  I  hope  you  will  find  you 
have  made  a  mistake  iii  going." 

"  I  shall  not  do  that,  in  any  case." 

L<urgan  opened  his  mouth  as  if  to  speak  again, 
and  then  thought  better  of  it. 

"  Give  my  love  to  your  mother  and  Con- 
stance. ' ' 

"Yes." 

Suddenly  Lurgan  took  her  by  the  shoulders 
and  held  her  facing  him. 

' '  What  is  the  use  of  all  this  pretense  ?  You 
mean  to  get  over  there  and  stay.  You  never 
intend  to  come  back." 

"You  are  quite  mistaken.  If  I  find  that  my 
father's  health  has  improved,  I  shall  probably 
come  back  very  soon. ' ' 

"  To  go  through  this  farce  of  living  !  You  are 
more  dead  than  alive.  I  have  no  wife.  What 
can  you  expect  of  me  ?  ' ' 

"  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  discuss  that  ques- 
tion now.  You  have  what  you  married  me  for, 
and  I  suppose  I  have  what  I  married  you  for, 
although  Heaven  knows  I  hardly  thought  what 
that  was  at  the  time.  I  think  we  may  now  say 
good  by." 

walked  down  the  hall  with  an  emotion 


l8o  HER   LADYSHIP. 

in  his  heart  which  he  knew  would  make  him  dis- 
agreeable to  Mrs.  Henderson. 

' '  She  will  stay  if  he  dies,  and  I  suppose  she 
will  get  a  divorce."  He  snapped  his  forefinger 
and  thumb  together.  "  Glad  enough  shall  I 
be  !  "  but  the  expression  of  his  face  was  not 
glad. 


XX. 

""PHE  journey  to  London  was  taken  alone  but 
for  Celeste  and  a  man  from  the  office  of  the 
estate  to  see  that  the  tickets  were  properly 
secured  ;  and  before  Alice  realized  it,  she  was 
on  the  ocean  on  her  way  to  America.  The  six 
days  of  the  voyage  left  her  still  in  a  state  of 
numb  expectancy.  In  New  York  she  was  met  by 
an  old  friend  of  her  father's,  a  sober  business 
man  whom  she  had  never  known  well,  and  who 
seemed  to  stand  in  some  awe  of  her  as  the 
Countess  of  I^urgan.  He  had  no  hope  to  offer 
her.  Her  father  was  still  alive,  but  very  ill  and 
very  weak,  he  understood.  He  stroked  his  thin 
beard,  and  evidently  wished  that  some  one  else 
had  been  deputed  to  meet  this  daughter  of  San- 
derson's. How  could  he  know,  poor  man,  that 
Mrs.  Sanderson  had  carefully  thought  how  the 
item  in  the  papers  would  sound,  recording 
the  fact  that  one  of  the  greatest  financiers  in  the 
country  had  left  Wall  Street  to  escort  L,ady 
Lurgan  to  her  train  ?  She  was  quite  shrewd 
enough  to  know  that  it  would  mean  far  more  in 
I<ondon  than  the  name  of  any  social  dignitary  in 
181 


1 82  HER   LADYSHIP. 

America  ;  and  it  was  upon  London  that  Mrs. 
Sanderson  had  her  eye. 

Alice  did  not  stop  between  ship  and  train, 
except  for  a  hasty  luncheon  at  a  hotel.  As  she 
left  the  table,  and  stood  for  an  instant  in  the 
hallway,  she  saw  before  her  a  back  whose  out- 
line sent  a  chill  through  her  very  soul.  It  was  a 
conventional  back — a  little  broader  than  ordi- 
nary, a  little  more  erect,  perhaps,  but  like  that 
of  thousands  of  other  well  groomed  and  well  set 
up  city  men.  The  hair  above  it  was  quite  gray, 
and  as  Alice  saw  this  in  the  fleeting  glimpse  she 
had,  she  knew  that  it  could  not  be  Chris.  She 
almost  hated  herself  for  the  heart  throb  that  the 
resemblance  had  given  her,  but  she  could  not 
get  it  out  of  her  mind  all  the  way  across  the 
country. 

The  long  run  ended  at  last  in  the  Chicago 
station,  where  old  Granger  came  forward  to  meet 
her.  There  were  tears  in  the  old  man's  eyes,  and 
at  first  she  could  not  speak  to  him.  She  had 
thought  Connie  would  be  there,  or — her  heart 
had  beat  between  hope  and  fear  ever  since 
she  left  New  York — that  perhaps  it  might  be 
Batterman. 

"  He  is  alive,  Miss  Alice,"  old  Granger  said, 
"  but  he  is  very  ill.  Miss  Connie  wanted  to 
come  to  meet  you,  but  Mrs.  Sanderson  thought  it 
best  not.  I  just  would  come,  myself." 


HER  LADYSHIP.  183 

The  houses  along  the  L,ake  Shore  drive  were 
no  longer  the  palaces  she  remembered,  but  rather 
dingy  dwellings,  lacking  space  and  taste.  Bveu 
Lake  Michigan  seemed  less  blue.  The  great  San- 
derson house,  which  she  had  felt  might  be  com- 
pared to  any  historic  home  she  had  seen  since  she 
left  it,  was  little  better  than  the  rest ;  but  when 
she  stepped  from  the  carriage  into  the  dusk  of 
the  great  porte  cochere,  and  felt  two  warm  arms 
about  her,  and  a  fresh  satiny  young  face  against 
her  own,  something  in  her  heart  seemed  to  give 
way  for  a  moment.  With  a  cry  of  "  Connie  !  " 
she  gathered  her  young  sister  into  her  arms, 
and  the  sobs  which  came  into  her  throat  wrenched 
her  very  soul. 

When  she  was  calm  again,  she  found  Mrs. 
Sanderson  beside  her,  too,  and  they  were  all  three 
together  in  the  library.  It  was  the  room  where 
she  had  told  Chris  that  she  did  not  love  him,  in 
that  distant  past.  There  was  an  indefinable 
change  in  the  room  since  then.  She  could  not 
tell  exactly  what  it  was,  but  the  newness  that 
she  remembered  was  so  far  gone  that  there  was 
no  trace  of  its  ever  having  been  there.  The 
prevailing  tone  was  as  mellow  as  time  itself. 

Mrs.  Sanderson  was  in  a  costume  which  almost 
suggested  widowhood.  It  was  as  if  she  were 
entering  the  valley  of  black  and  decorous  grief 
as  gradually  as  she  expected  to  come  out.  of  it. 


1 84  HER  LADYSHIP. 

There  was  about  her,  too,  a  change  which  was 
greater  than  the  three  years  would  warrant.  She 
was  no  older  in  appearance.  Her  complexion 
was  as  smooth  and  lineless ;  but  she  seemed  to 
bear  a  new  dignity,  an  assurance,  which  perhaps 
had  something  to  do  with  the  consciousness  of 
having  a  daughter  who  was  the  Countess  of 
Lurgan. 

But  Alice  looked  at  Connie  with  amazement. 
The  lanky  girl  of  fifteen  that  she  had  left  was 
now  the  tall,  beautiful  woman  of  eighteen. 
Connie  did  not  belong  to  the  class  who  are  chil- 
dren until  they  are  twenty.  Life  was  too  vivid 
a  thing  to  her  for  her  not  to  bloom  early.  She 
was  like  Alice  a  little,  like  her  father  a  little, 
and  like  her  mother  in  an  intangible  something 
which  spelled  power.  She  had  the  genius  of 
personality.  Her  young  face  was  all  warm  and 
full  of  life,  but  there  was  more  than  a  suggestion 
of  coldness  in  her  large  eyes. 

"Take  Lady  Lurgan's  wraps  up  stairs  to  her 
old  rooms,  Celeste,"  she  said  to  the  maid.  "  Come 
along,  Alice,  let  me  get  you  up  stairs.  I  know 
you  are  tired  to  death. ' ' 

' '  But  how  is  father  ?    When  can  I  see  him  ?  ' ' 

"  As  soon  as  you  are  ready,  dear,"  Mrs.  San- 
derson said.  "We  have  told  him  that  you  are 
coming,  and  he  expects  you,  but  you  must  no* 
excite  him.  He  is  very  weak." 


HER  LADYSHIP.  185 

"  I  will  go  now,"  Alice  replied. 

She  unpinned  her  hat,  and  started  up  the  stairs 
toward  her  father's  old  room.  Her  face  was 
drawn  with  emotion,  and  her  stepmother  put  her 
hand  on  her  arm  warningly. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  you  must  be  calm, 
and  you  must  not  excite  him.  He  does  not  know 
how  seriously  ill  he  is.  It  would  be  fatal  to  tell 
him,  the  doctor — we  all — think.  He  likes  bright 
faces  about  him.  Make  him  think  you  are  per- 
fectly happy — in  being  here  with  us  again." 
Even  now  she  would  see  that  there  were  no  con- 
fidences between  father  and  daughter. 

Alice  hesitated  again  at  her  father's  door,  as 
her  stepmother  went  in  to  prepare  him  for  her 
coming.  As  she  opened  the  door,  he  lay  on  the 
bed,  facing  her.  So  white,  so  thin  and  weak  was 
he,  that  his  bloodless  face  was  almost  the  color  of 
the  pillow  ;  but  it  was  animated  by  a  great  tender- 
ness as  he  saw  his  daughter,  and  he  put  his  arms 
wide  for  her  as  if  she  had  been  a  little  child. 

The  thinness  of  the  chest  against  which  Alice 
put  her  head  almost  broke  her  heart.  She  drew 
her  lip  between  her  teeth  and  held  it  there  to 
keep  from  crying  aloud.  Everything  was  so 
different.  Nowhere  in  the  wide  world  was  there 
anything  as  she  had  left  it. 

' '  I  have  missed  you  so, ' '  her  father  said,  and 
"  I  have  missed  you  so,"  over  again. 


1 86  HER  LADYSHIP. 

Alice  put  her  arms  about  the  slender,  emaciated 
body  that  had  been  so  big  and  strong  and  erect, 
and  said  his  words  over  after  him.  Then  her 
father  laughed  a  little. 

"  I  had  to  get  sick  to  bring  you  home  again, 
eh  ?  I  know  how  quickly  the  time  ran  by.  I 
wanted  to  come  over  this  last  year  more  than  I 
can  say,  but  there  were  always  so  many  things 
to  interfere,  and,  besides,  your  mother  was  keep- 
ing Connie  for  a  surprise.  But,  tell  me,  where 
is  I^urgan  ?  ' ' 

"  He  could  not  come.  He,  too,  had  so  many 
affairs. ' ' 

Her  father  smoothed  her  hair  wistfully. 

' '  I  suppose  you  will  want  to  be  going  back  to 
him  very  soon.  We  cannot  hope  to  keep  you 
long." 

' '  Longer  than  you  think  !  Now  that  I  am 
here  you  are  not  going  to  lose  me  again  in  a 
hurry." 

She  was  beginning  to  be  more  cheerful,  to  con- 
quer her  emotion.  Although  her  father  was  so 
pale  and  thin,  his  voice  was  natural.  It  seemed 
to  her  only  a  case  of  "  building  him  up  "  to  make 
him  himself  again.  But  when  Alice  started  to  go 
out  of  his  reach  for  a  moment,  he  clutched  at  her 
hand  weakly  and  held  it  in  his  poor  thin  one. 

' '  I  cannot  let  you  go  yet.  You  must  tell  me 
all  about  your  happy  life  over  there.  Booking  at 


HER  LADYSHIP.  187 

you,  I  cannot  imagine  how  we  have  let  the  time  go 
by  without  going  to  see  you.  The  months  went 
so  fast,  and  they  doubled  into  years  before  one 
fairly  knew  it.  But  I  knew  that  you  were  happy. 
That  meant  so  much  to  me." 

He  looked  at  her  wistfully,  as  if  he  would 
assure  himself. 

"It  meant  a  great  deal  to  all  of  us,"  Mrs. 
Sanderson  said  sweetly,  rubbing  his  brow,  upon 
which  a  bead  or  two  of  sweat  stood,  with  her 
delicate  handkerchief.  "  But  we  knew  that  a 
young  couple  who  were  just  starting  life  together 
did  not  want  their  plans  interrupted  by  parental 
claims. ' ' 

Sanderson's  eyes  left  Alice's  face  for  a  moment, 
and  looked  at  his  wife,  whose  dominion  over  him 
had  never  for  a  moment  lessened  ;  but  he  still 
held  his  daughter's  hand. 

The  door  opened  rather  abruptly,  and  Connie 
came  through,  excitement  on  her  face,  making 
it  anything  but  the  subdued  countenance  of  a 
sick  room. 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  "  Chris  Batterman  is  down 
stairs.  He  has  just  come  back  from  New  York, 
and  I  told  him  I  was  sure  you  would  want  to  see 
him.  You  do,  don't  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Sanderson  started  forward. 

"  Oh,  Connie,  how  could  you  !  "  she  exclaimed. 
' '  Your  father  is  not  able  to  see  any  one. ' ' 


1 88  HER   LADYSHIP. 

' '  Yes, ' '  Sanderson  said  eagerly.  ' '  Chris  ! 
Bring  him  in  at  once,  Connie."  His  voice 
gasped  and  almost  failed  him  at  the  last  word. 

' '  No  ! ' '  Mrs.  Sanderson  said.  ' '  No,  no, 
dearest,  you  know  that  you  are  not  able  to  see 
him  !  " 

But  Connie  had  opened  the  door,  and  Alice 
stood  there  by  her  father's  bed,  her  heart  like  ice, 
and  saw  Batterman,  a  new  Batterman,  broader, 
sterner,  older,  with  gray  hair  above  his  browned 
face,  come  through  the  door.  He  walked  to  the 
other  side  of  her  father,  and  the  two  men  clasped 
hands.  Sanderson  half  lifted  himself  from  his 
pillow,  tried  to  speak — then  gasped  and  fell 
back,  dead,  his  hands  holding  close  the  hands  of 
his  daughter  and  of  the  man  she  loved. 


XXI. 

may  be  lost  in  grief,  but  the  machinery 
of  our  material  lives  must  go  on,  and  the 
common  sense  which  governs  the  same  must 
govern  our  actions  and  even  our  thoughts. 

Her  father's  death,  so  sudden,  within  minutes 
of  her  return,  and  the  circumstances  attending 
it,  made  it  seem  to  Alice  almost  like  a  terrible 
dream.  In  these  three  years  she  had  grown  so 
much  accustomed  to  living  alone,  to  having  no 
communion  with  others  in  her  sorrows  and  heart- 
aches, that  she  could  think  of  no  earthly  comfort 
now.  For  one  instant  she  had  turned  toward 
Chris,  but  he  was  not  looking  at  her.  He  had 
put  her  father's  hand  down,  and  leaning  forward, 
had  lifted  the  poor,  thin  body  in  his  arms,  almost 
before  the  last  sigh  had  come  through  the  nerve- 
less lips. 

She  hardly  knew  how  she  found  herself  in  her 
own  old  room,  the  room  in  which  she  had  heard 
the  death  sentence  of  her  happiness.  She  was 
sitting  by  the  window  with  dry  eyes,  finding 
comfort — quite  unconsciously  to  herself — in  the 
thought  that  Chris  was  down  stairs  taking  every- 
189 


190  HER   LADYSHIP. 

thing  into  his  hands.  In  all  her  grief,  she  had 
not  failed  to  see  that  there  was  a  change  in  Mrs. 
Sanderson's  treatment  of  Batterman.  She  had 
tried  to  keep  him  away,  but  now  that  he  was  here 
she  was  glad  to  give  everything  into  his  charge. 
If  Alice  had  not  noticed  it,  Connie  would  have 
called  her  attention  to  it  later  in  the  evening. 

Celeste  had  come  in  with  a  tear  stained  face, 
bringing  some  dinner  on  a  tray,  and  followed  by 
Connie.  The  younger  girl  had  thrown  herself  on 
the  couch  beside  her  father  in  a  passion  of  sobs, 
until  Chris  had  lifted  her  away  and  almost  car- 
ried her  into  another  room.  He  said  no  words  of 
consolation.  There  were  none  to  say.  The 
hurrying  servants,  the  doctors  coming,  made  a 
bustle  all  through  the  house.  Mrs.  Sanderson 
had  walked  into  her  bed  room  and  shut  the  door, 
pushing  even  her  daughter  awa}1-  from  her.  What 
that  death  meant  to  her  ambitious  heart  and 
brain  only  she  could  know  ;  and  perhaps,  in  that 
first  moment,  she  found  the  realization  a  terrible 
flood  which  swallowed  up  her  imaginings. 

Connie  was  comparatively  calm,  and  her  first 
words  were  directed  toward  the  dinner.  It  was 
almost  nine  o'clock,  but  the  late  twilight  had  not 
fully  left  the  sky  and  the  lake,  although  it  was 
the  edge  of  autumn.  Celeste  had  thrown  shades 
over  the  globes  of  the  electric  lights,  and  the 
whole  was  in  a  cold,  white  dimness. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  191 

"  Can  you  eat  your  dinner,  Alice?  "  Constance 
asked.  "  You  must  try  to.  For  the  last  month 
I  have  been  growing  accustomed  to  papa's  illness. 
\felt  that  he  was  going  to  die,  but  mamma  said 
not.  I  know,  now,  that  she  knew  it  all  the  time, 
but  she  would  not  let  herself  think  so.  She  did 
not  want  me  to  cable  to  you,  but  the  doctors 
were  talking  in  the  hall,  and  I  overheard  them. 
But — oh,  Alice,  I  can't  get  used  to  it !  "  she 
wailed. 

Alice  put  her  arm  across  her  shoulders  and 
comforted  her,  while  her  own  heart  felt  as  if  it 
had  been  deadened.  Presently,  when  she  was 
calm  again,  Connie  went  on  : 

"It  is  such  a  comfort  to  have  Chris  here 
again.  We  hardly  see  him  any  more." 

"  But  isn't  he — hasn't  he  been  with  father?  " 
Alice's  surprise  made  her  ask. 

"  Not  since  you  were  married.  Didn't  you 
know  ?  Oh,  Chris  is  a  great  deal  richer  than  we 
are  !  He  has  great  mines  in  Mexico,  and  has 
built  a  town  somewhere  in  the  Northwest,  and 
owns  a  lot  of  things  here  in  Chicago  and  in  New 
York.  He  is  so  busy  that  we  do  not  see  him,  I 
suppose.  Mamma  was  not  very  pleasant  to  him 
at  one  time.  I  think  they  had  some  sort  of  a 
quarrel.  Do  you  know,  Alice,  I  have  thought, 
since  I  grew  up,  that  it  was  queer  you  and  Chris 
never  fell  in  love  with  each  other  ?  Of  course  I 


IQ2  HER    LADYSHIP. 

suppose  it  was  lucky  you  didn't,  because  you 
wouldn't  have  been  a  countess,  and  it  must  be  a 
great  thing  to  be  a  countess.  You  never  have  to 
snub  people  then,  to  show  that  they  aren't  quite 
so  good  as  you  are.  You  are  a  countess,  and 
that  ends  it.  But  I  can't  imagine  anybody  being 
really  any  grander  than  Chris. ' ' 

Alice  let  her  arm  relax  about  Connie's  shoulder, 
and  then  involuntarily  she  drew  it  a  little  tighter 
again.  She  would  scorn  the  idea  that  she  was 
jealous  of  her  own  sister.  Chris  was  nothing  to 
her — he  never  had  loved  her.  He  was  a  strong, 
good,  honorable  man  ;  nobody  had  ever  had  any- 
thing else  to  say  of  him.  Her  meddlesome  con- 
science told  her  that  she  ought  to  be  very  glad, 
very  grateful,  if  in  this  hour,  when  she  was 
losing  her  father,  a  noble,  good  man  like  this 
could  be  near.  And  yet — that  seemed  the  bitter- 
est thing  of  all. 

After  a  while,  when  Connie  had  gone  away, 
and  Alice  had  undressed,  she  turned  off  the 
lights,  and  lay  among  the  very  pillows  of  her 
girlhood,  \vith  her  curtains  put  aside  so  that  she 
could  look  out  on  the  lake.  If  Chris  were  going 
to  marry  Connie  !  Of  course  he  would.  She 
had  grown  to  expect  only  disasters  for  herself. 
She  could  not  live  near  them.  She  knew  that 
her  mother  would  come  to  London  to  live.  She 
must  do  something. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  193 

Her  mind  ran  on  these  thoughts  for  days. 
She  kept  her  own  room,  and  did  not  see  Chris. 
She  knew  that  he  was  there.  After  the  first  day, 
the  rooms  were  filled  with  women,  who  came  with 
mourning  dresses  to  try  on.  Mrs.  Sanderson, 
with  a  handkerchief  always  in  her  hand,  called 
up  the  servants  and  gave  them  their  orders,  and 
saw  people  about  the  thousand  and  one  arrange- 
ments. She  talked  much  to  Alice  of  her  plans, 
asked  her  opinion,  and  gave  her  bits  of  informa- 
tion. It  seemed  to  Alice,  presently,  that  her 
father's  death  was  something  that  had  been  long 
thought  of  and  prepared  for. 

The  night  before  the  funeral  she  called  Celeste 
to  her. 

"Where  have  they  put  him?"  she  asked. 
It  seemed  easier  to  ask  a  servant  than  her  step- 
mother or  Connie.  They  might  ask  her  to  go 
with  them  to  see  him. 

"  In  the  library,  my  lady." 

' '  And  who  is  there  ?  ' ' 

"  There  is  no  one.  Granger  and  James  and — 
some  others  are  in  the  next  room." 

It  was  late  that  night  when  Alice,  in  her  soft 
white  gown  and  slippers,  stole  through  the  halls, 
down  the  staircase,  and  into  the  dimly  lighted 
library.  Her  father  lay  almost  on  the  spot  where 
Alice  had  stood  that  morning,  but  she  did  not 
recall  it  now.  She  only  knew  that  the  only 


194  HER  LADYSHIP. 

friend  she  had  in  all  the  world,  the  only  person  who 
truly  loved  her,  was  lying  there.  She  forgot, 
she  had  no  temptation  to  remember,  that  when 
she  had  called  upon  him  he  had  failed  her.  She 
knew  that  whatever  he  had  done  had  been  out 
of  love  for  her,  and  she  was  beginning  to  under- 
stand that  perhaps  he  never  had  known ;  per- 
haps the  story  of  her  great  misery  had  never 
come  to  him. 

The  beautiful  face  was  calm  and  peaceful  and 
gentle,  as  it  had  always  been.  The  sight  of  it 
unlocked  the  fountains  of  Alice's  heart,  it  made 
her  the  clinging  girl  again,  the  little  daughter. 
She  had  closed  the  door  into  the  room  where  the 
men  sat,  and  was  all  alone.  A  great  sob  came 
up  into  her  throat,  fairly  tearing  her  as  it  came, 
and  she  fell  down  on  the  floor  beside  her  father's 
body,  her  hands  clasping  his,  which  lay  across 
his  placid  chest.  She  knew  that  she  said  some 
words  aloud  ;  she  knew  that  she  cried  in  broken 
accents,  cried  out  to  the  still,  cold,  placid  figure 
all  the  love,  all  the  longing  which  had  been 
stored  up  in  her  heart,  and  which  she  thought 
was  dead.  She  made  the  appeals  that  some 
shyness,  some  wall  of  reserve,  built  up  carefully 
by  her  stepmother,  had  kept  her  from  making  to 
her  father  in  his  lifetime,  until  she  slipped 
from  the  place  where  he  lay,  and  fell  moaning 
with  long,  tired  sobs  to  the  floor. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  195 

Then  she  felt  herself  lifted  and  taken  out  of  the 
room,  in  to  a  little  reception  room  where  a  great 
divan  bordered  the  wall.  There  was  no  word 
spoken,  and  she  did  not  open  her  eyes,  yet  she 
knew  that  it  was  Chris. 

"Shall  I  bring  some  one  to  you ?  "  he  asked 
presently. 

"No,  no,  I  will  go." 

' '  Not  yet. "  He  put  her  back.  ' '  Alice, ' '  he 
said,  "  I  heard  some  of  the  things  you  said.  I 
could  not  help  it.  If  you  are  unhappy,  you  must 
let  me  take  your  father's  place.  I  have  known 
you  ever  since  you  were  a  little  girl.  I  loved 
your  father  more  than  you  can  know.  He  would 
have  given  his  life  to  make  you  happy.  I^et  me 
arrange  your  plans,  do  anything  for  you,  as  he 
would  have  done  if  you  had  let  him  know." 

Alice  quivered  as  she  lay,  and  a  great  longing 
came  over  her,  as  it  had  come  so  many  times 
before,  to  tell  it  all  to  Chris.  Then — she  could 
not.  He  had  not  loved  her.  His  very  presence 
was  happiness  and  torture  to'her.  Why  weren't 
all  men  like  this  one  ? 

She  shook  her  head  slowly.  Batterman  took 
her  hand,  which  she  had  no  power  to  take  from 
his  firm,  warm  grasp. 

' '  Alice, ' '  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  full  of  a 
sweetness  which  was  solemn,  "  whatever  you  are 
or  are  not  to  me,  you  are  your  father's  daughter, 


Tg6  HER  LADYSHIP. 

and  I  have  the  right  of  the  man  who  loved  him 
most  to  take  up  the  work  he  left  unfinished.  It 
was  there  where  he  is  lying  now  that  I  told  you 
that  whatever  service  I  could  do  for  you  I  was 
ready  to  come  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  to 
perform.  I  meant  that  then,  just  as  I  mean  it 
now.  I  offer  you  my  allegiance  as  your  father's 
daughter.  You  cannot  refuse  me  that." 

"You  can  do  nothing  for  me,"  she  said. 
"  Nobody  can  do  anything  for  me.  I  must  live 
my  own  life."  She  had  regained  her  calmness 
now.  She  had  a  terrible  fear  that  he  would  see 
below  the  surface,  that  he  would  see  and  know 
that  she  loved  him,  that  the  bitterest  sting  in  her 
unhappy  days  was  to  look  at  him  and  know  that 
he  was  out  of  her  life,  that  he — better,  greater, 
growing  every  year  into  a  fuller  and  nobler 
existence — was  to  go  away  and  leave  her  again, 
with  her  bruised,  sore  heart  more  than  ever 
needing  him,  the  one  balm  nature  had  made  for 
all  of  her  ills.  She  had  married  that  he  might 
not  know  it — and  she  must  not  tell  him  now  ; 
but  she  could  not  stand  his  tenderness. 

"Alice,"  he  said  again,  "  treat  me  as  your 
brother.  Let  me  be  your  brother. ' ' 

"  I  never  had  a  brother,"  she  replied  evasively. 

' '  I  am  afraid  I  should  not  know ' '  She  put 

her  handkerchief  to  her  mouth  and  turned  away. 
She  could  not  speak  again,  for  she  had  a 


HER  LADYSHIP.  197 

horrible  fear  that  she  would  begin  to  make  that 
appeal  to  the  living  Chris  that  she  had  made  to 
her  dead  father,  lying  there  in  the  other  room. 

She  gave  him  her  hand  for  a  second,  and  then 
he  watched  her  go  swiftly  up  the  stairs,  her  long 
white  gown  trailing  after  her,  his  own  heart 
almost  bursting  with  a  burning  indignation  and 
a  passionate  longing  to  protect  the  woman  he 
loved. 


XXII. 

days  after  the  funeral  were  a  blank  to 
Alice.  The  excitement,  the  grief,  and  the 
change  had  prostrated  her,  and  she.  lay  in  her 
own  room,  looking  out  of  the  window.  Almost 
every  hour  in  the  day  Mrs.  Sanderson  or  Connie 
sat  beside  her  ;  and  always  they  talked,  and,  bit 
by  bit,  plans  which  Alice  could  see  were  old 
plans,  well  laid,  were  brought  carefully  forward. 
They  were  to  go  to  Europe  at  once — to  the  Con- 
tinent, Mrs.  Sanderson  thought,  until  their 
mourning  was  lightened,  and  then  it  would  be 
well  to  go  to  London  and  take  a  house  there. 

One  day  Connie,  who  had  been  sitting  silent  a 
long  time,  said  abruptly  : 

"  How  rich  do  you  suppose  we  are  ?  How  do 
you  suppose  papa  has  left  his  fortune — equally 
divided  between  you  and  me  ?  ' ' 

"  Hardly  that,  I  think,"  her  mother  answered 
softly.  "Alice  had  a  great  fortune  given  her 
upon  her  marriage,  and  your  father  doubtless 
expected  you  to  have  the  same. ' ' 

"  I  suppose  so,"  Connie  said. 

But  the  idea  was  a  new  one  to  Alice.  She 
198 


HER  I/ADYSHIP,  199 

would  have  money,  then  ?  Once  again  the  gates 
of  freedom  seemed  to  open  to  her.  She  could  go 
where  she  pleased  and  do  what  she  would.  She 
would  never,  never  return  to  Salby  Chase  !  She 
would  go  somewhere,  perhaps  here  in  America, 
and  live  the  simple  life  she  had  once  thought  of. 
Perhaps  she  might  go  back  to  the  little  home 
they  had  had  in  the  Western  mining  town.  She 
had  been  happy  when  they  lived  there  ;  and  then 
a  picture  of  it  as  it  was  now  appeared  before  her, 
and  her  face  flushed.  It  seemed  to  be  in  the 
depths  of  solitude,  encompassed  by  loneliness, 
and  she  knew  'that  it  was  because  Chris  was  not 
there. 

I/urgan  was  welcome  to  the  money  that  her 
father  had  given  him.  It  had  been  what  he 
wanted  when  he  married  her,  and  he  might  have 
it.  Her  father  was  dead  and  could  never  know 
now,  could  never  be  pained  by  the  thought  that 
she  was  unhappy.  She  was  glad  that  he  never 
had  known.  Her  mother  and  Connie  could  take 
care  of  themselves. 

But  even  that  dream  was  to  end.  There  came 
a  day  when  the  will  was  read,  and  Alice  heard 
the  lawyer  reading  the  words  in  which  her  father 
left  her  his  love  and  affection,  and  a  thousand 
dollars  as  a  token  of  love,  her  fortune  having 
already  been  settled  upon  her  at  her  marriage. 
He  bequeathed  a  sum  to  Constance  equal  to  that 


200  HER  LADYSHIP. 

given  to  Lurgan  when  Alice  married  him,  and 
the  residue  of  his  great  fortune,  with  all  of  his 
personal  property,  was  left  to  his  wife.  A  most 
proper  and  considerate  will,  everybody  said  ;  and 
Alice  looked  at  her  stepmother  and  realized  that 
her  father  never  had  known,  never  had  had  her 
letter  asking  his  help.  He  had  died  thinking  her 
happy  in  her  married  life. 

The  contents  of  the  will  were  cabled  to  I/on- 
dou,  as  the  Countess  of  lyUrgan  was  interested, 
and  in  the  first  mail  came  a  letter  from  lyUrgan 
urging  Mrs.  Sanderson  and  Connie  to  come  to 
London. 

' '  Connie  must  be  getting  to  be  a  great  girl 
now,"  he  wrote,  "  and  with  her  fortune  we  must 
marry  her  off  properly.  Alice  needs  somebody 
to  chaperon. ' ' 

After  that,  the  going  was  almost  a  matter  of 
days.  Mrs.  Sanderson  had  everything  packed  in 
the  great  house,  had  a  caretaker  put  in,  had  her 
announcements  in  the  papers,  and  was  ready  to 
take  the  steamer  before  Alice  fairly  realized  that 
she  was  going  back  into  the  old  bondage.  She 
smiled  at  herself  now  and  then,  at  her  futile 
dreams  and  air  castles.  She  seemed  to  have 
done  nothing  else  all  her  life  ;  but  her  smiles 
were  not  pleasant  to  think  of. 

They  reached  New  York  two  or  three  days 
before  the  steamer  sailed — days  which  Mrs.  San- 


HER  LADYSHIP.  2OI 

derson  filled,  full.  On  the  afternoon  before  the 
sailing  they  were  having  their  luncheon  in  their 
own  parlor  in  the  hotel,  Connie  and  her  mother 
in  their  bonnets,  ready  to  go  out  again  in  a  few 
moments,  when  the  waiter  put  a  card  before  Mrs 
Sanderson 

"  Ah,  it  is  Chris  f""she  said,  as  if  Chris  were 
the  dearest  friend  she  had  in  the  world.  "  Tell 
him  to  come  in  ;  "  and  she  rose  to  meet  him  with 
a  pretty  gesture. 

Although  Mrs.  Sanderson's  dress  was  in  the 
plainest  depths  of  woe,  it  was  cut  becomingly, 
and  she  seemed  to  have  cast  off  years,  so  that  she 
looked  hardly  older  than  Alice.  Her  hair,  which 
had  been  parted  so  long,  was  rippled  back  from 
her  fine,  smooth  forehead,  and  while  her  manner 
was  serious,  there  was  a  latent  suggestion  of 
coquetry  in  the  way  her  head  moved  under  her 
black  veil. 

Alice  had  known  that  she  would  see  Chris 
before  she  went  away.  He  had  promised  to  say 
good  by  to  them  in  New  York,  yet  it  was  with  a 
thrill  of  pure  nervousness  that  she  saw  him 
again.  It  was  as  if  her  secret  was  fairly  pushing 
its  way  to  the  surface,  defying  her  efforts  to  hold 
it  down.  It  was  too  great  a  thing  to  have  been 
put  in  her  keeping — one  of  nature's  own,  which 
she  never  intended  should  be  kept. 

As  he  came  in  at  the  door,  her  eyes  took  in  all 


202  HER  LADYSHIP. 

the  manly  beauty  which  had  been  added  to  him 
since  three  years  ago.  He  was  older,  graver, 
larger.  The  look  of  boyishness  had  passed  from 
him,  although  he  had  not  lost  much  of  his  youth- 
ful slim  ness  ;  but  the  gray  ness  of  his  hair  above 
his  bronze  cheeks  gave  him  a  look  of  maturity 
and  dignity.  He  had  always  been  a  little  finical 
about  his  dress,  even  in  the  old  days,  and  now 
he  was  as  elegant  as  a  diplomat,  or  as  any  well 
dressed  American.  But  the  look  which  fasci- 
nated Alice,  as  it  had  fascinated  her  in  the  old 
days,  was  his  look  of  confidence,  of  power,  of 
genuine  kindliness.  It  was  that  which  she  had 
missed  in  her  own  husband,  and  in  the  men  she 
had  known  abroad.  Young  Belding  had  had 
some  of  it,  after  the  American  fashion.  Prob- 
ably it  was  as  common  in  England  as  in  the 
United  States,  but  its  expression  was  not  so 
frank. 

"  It  is  so  good  of  you  to  come  to  see  us  off, ' ' 
Mrs.  Sanderson  said  cordially.  "  Come  and 
have  some  luncheon  with  us. ' ' 

"  I  have  had  my  own,"  Batterman  said  coolly, 
and  then  he  turned  to  smile  in  Connie's  face. 

She  took  a  white  carnation  from  the  table  and 
went  around  and  decorated  his  coat. 

"  Chris,"  she  said,  "  they  say  I'm  done  with 
lessons.  So  far  as  I  can  judge  I  don't  know  a 
thing,  except  how  to  read  and  write,  and  it  has 


HER  LADYSHIP.  203 

always  been  amazing  to  me  how  I  ever  learned 
that.  I  did  it  before  I  was  old  enough  to  be  con- 
scious, or  I  wouldn't." 

' '  What  do  you  want  to  know  ?  ' ' 

"Oh,  I'm  satisfied,  only  I  had  an  idea  that 
the  world  wanted  something  more.  But  I  am  to 
go  abroad  and  pick  up  a  few  pointers,  and  then 
mother  and  Alice  are  going  to  marry  me  off.  An 
earl  was  good  enough  for  Alice,  but  you  know 
the  family  mustn't  retrograde.  I  think  they 
design  me  for  a  king." 

To  save  her  life  Alice  could  not  keep  the 
quick  flush  from  her  face  at  the  mention  of  her 
marriage,  and  Batterman  looked  up  in  time  to 
catch  it.  He  was  not  so  quick  as  Mrs.  Sander- 
son, however,  and  there  came  into  her  eyes  an 
expression  which  made  them  ugly  for  the 
moment,  narrowing  them  to  points  of  steely 
light.  There  was  inflammable  material  here, 
material  she  meant  to  use. 

"  Constance  talks  nonsense,"  her  mother  said 
smilingly,  as  if  the  girlish  nonsense  amused  a 
weary,  sorrow  sick  heart. 

"I  know  mighty  little  else  to  talk,"  her 
daughter  said  dryly,  "and  I  am  disinclined  to  sit 
silent.  Chris,  are  you  coming  out  with  us  this 
afternoon  ?  Mother  is  trying  to  buy  a  mourning 
steamer  rug.  Now  have  you  seen  anything  of  a 
steamer  rug •' ' 


204  HER   LADYSHIP. 

"  Constance  !" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  mother."  She  went 
over  to  her  mother's  side  and  took  her  hand, 
but  Mrs.  Sanderson  walked  by  her  into  her  bed 
room. 

"There,  I  have  done  it,"  Connie  said  ruefully  ; 
"  but  how  on  earth  was  I  to  know  that  it  is  so 
much  worse  to  talk  about  a  black  steamer  rug 
than  it  is  to  buy  one?  Chris" — looking  at  him 
solemnly — "  I  fear  I  am  a  hard  hearted,  incon- 
siderate young  person,  with  a  total  lack  of 
delicacy.  I'll  go  in  and  apologize  to  mother." 

As  she  knocked  on  the  door,  Batterman  sat 
down  beside  Alice  and  put  his  hand  under  the 
turn  of  his  cheek.  It  was  an  old  trick  of  his, 
one  Alice  remembered  in  the  old  days  when  he 
had  lived  with  them.  Then,  even  though  he 
was  always  there,  and  was  like  a  brother  to  her, 
he  used  to  set  her  heart  fluttering  when  he  sat 
down  beside  her,  but  not  as  it  was  fluttering 
now. 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  if  I  am  imperti- 
nent, Alice,"  he  began,  "  but  I  want  to  ask  you 
concerning  your  affairs." 

Just  then  the  door  into  Mrs.  Sanderson's  room 
opened,  and  she  came  out  without  her  bonnet, 
and  with  a  patient  look  of  sorrow  on  her  face. 
Alice  turned  to  her  at  once,  to  hide  her  embar- 
rassment. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  205 

' '  Are  you  not  going  out  ?  ' ' 

"No;  my  head  aches  a  little.  Christopher,  I 
wonder  if  I  may  ask  you  to  drive  down  town 
with  Constance?  I  have  an  order  which  she 
must  attend  to,  and  I  am  almost  afraid  to  let  her 
go  alone.  Will  you  do  this  for  me  ?  " 

Batterman  rose  at  once. 

' '  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  go, ' '  he  said,  ' '  but  I 
have  something  to  say  to  Alice. ' ' 

"She  is  not  going  out.  She  will  be  here  when 
you  come  back. ' ' 

After  the  carriage  had  driven  away,  Mrs. 
Sanderson  walked  back  and  forth  across  the 
room,  and  then  came  and  sat  down  by  Alice. 

"Alice,"  she  said,  "I  believe  Chris  wants  to 
give  you  some  money."  She  spoke  with  perfect 
calmness,  as  one  stating  a  commonplace  fact,  but 
it  brought  her  stepdaughter  to  her  feet. 

' '  What  do  you  mean  ?  ' ' 

"  Only  this.  Pardon  me,  dear,  if  I  am  saying 
too  much,  but  you  are  my  dear  daughter,  you 
are  my  husband's  daughter,  and  I  feel  toward 
you  as  I  feel  toward  Constance.  I  think  that 
Chris  is  like  every  other  man.  He  fancied  that 
you  cared  for  him  once,  and  he  cannot  get  it  out 
of  his  mind  that  you  may  now.  He  thinks  that 
you  may  be  unhappy  with  your  husband." 

"Why?  Why  ?"  Alice  fairly  gasped.  "Why 
do  you  think  so  ?  " 


206  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"Be  calm.  Because  he  showed  it  when  he 
spoke  to  me  of  the  provisions  of  the  will.  He 
knows  that  Lord  Lurgan  has  your  money,  as 
your  father  thought  was  proper,  and  he,  having 
the  most  American  ideas  concerning  the  inde- 
pendence of  women,  thinks  that  all  wrong.  Your 
father  felt  that  he  had  amply  and  properly  pro- 
vided for  you,  but  Chris  thinks  differently.  He 
fears  you  are  unhappy.  Perhaps,  good  and 
sweet  as  he  is,  it  would  flatter  his  vanity  to 
think  so." 

' '  How  you  mistake  him  !  ' '  Alice  said  dis- 
dainfully. 

"  Perhaps,  but  I  have  known  men  a  longtime. 
At  any  rate,  I  believe  the  feeling  will  prompt 
him  to  wish  to  give  you  an  income.  He  is 
enormously  wealthy.  His  income  in  one  year  is 
almost  as  large  as  our  whole  fortune.  I  tell  you 
this  that  you  may  make  up  your  mind." 

' '  Mr.  Battermau  cannot  give  me  an  income. ' ' 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  can,  if  you  will  let  him.  He 
will  tell  you  of  some  forgotten  investment  which 
your  father  made  for  you,  and  which  was  put 
into  his  hands — some  old  property  of  your 
mother's,  perhaps — which  has  increased  in 
value.  Really,  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should 
not.  He  has  been  everything  that  is  good.  He 
might  almost  be  a  member  of  the  family." 

Alice  was  standing  at  the  window  looking  out 


HER  LADYSHIP.  207 

into  Fifth  Avenue  at  Thirty  Fourth  Street.  It 
was  the  high  tide  of  the  afternoon  procession 
which  takes  the  air  there  every  day.  The 
crowds  of  tall,  well  dressed,  handsome  women 
went  by  on  the  pavement,  and  in  high  backed 
victorias,  or  neat  broughams,  with  here  and  there 
a  hansom  threading  its  irresponsible  way  in 
and  out.  It  was  a  gay,  happy  looking  crowd. 
The  first  frost  had  driven  people  back  to  town, 
glad  to  see  the  familiar  streets  again.  Alice 
wondered  if  in  all  that  crowd  there  was  one 
woman  who  was  so  humiliated,  so  miserably 
unhappy,  as  she  was. 

She  did  not  answer  Mrs.  Sanderson,  but  stood 
watching,  thinking,  seeing  only  years  of  dull 
unhappiness  ahead  of  her  in  a  long  life.  Pres- 
ently she  saw  the  carriage  containing  Constance 
and  Batterman  drive  up  to  the  door.  She  watched 
him  give  her  his  hand,  saw  them  turn  to  come  up 
the  steps  together,  the  most  distinguished  look- 
ing pair  she  had  seen  all  the  day,  a  pair  other 
people  turned  to  look  at.  They  seemed  young, 
just  entering  upon  life,  while  she  was  an  old 
woman. 

She  turned  away  and  went  into  her  own  room. 

"  Please  make  my  excuses  for  this  evening," 
she  said,  as  she  passed  her  stepmother. 

When  Connie  came  in,  bringing  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  gay,  busy  town  with  her,  for  all  her 


208  HER  LADYSHIP. 

black  draperies,  and  with  Chris  behind  her,  Mrs. 
Sanderson  had  ready  some  polite  regrets  concern- 
ing Alice's  headache.  Batterman  went  down  to 
the  waiting  room,  wrote  half  a  dozen  lines  on  a 
card,  and  sent  it  up  to  Alice.  In  a  few  moments 
the  boy  came  back  with  an  answer.  It  was  a 
courteous  excuse,  and  a  hope  that  if  she  did  not 
see  him  in  the  morning  she  might  some  time  soon 
have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him  at  Salby 
Chase,  where  I^ord  Lurgan  would  be  very  happy 
to  assist  her  in  entertaining  him. 

It  was  the  first  time  since  her  marriage  that 
Alice  had  made  an  invitation  in  her  husband's 
name. 


XXIII. 

A  lylCB  went  with  her  stepmother  and  Connie 
to  a  villa  they  had  taken  in  the  south  of 
France,  not  far  from  Pau.  She  was  in  mourn- 
ing, she  could  not  have  the  house  parties  which 
were  beginning  to  be  customary  at  Salby  Chase, 
and  no  objection  was  made  to  her  going  where 
she  would. 

But  Alice  was  not  satisfied.  Mrs.  Sanderson 
wearied  her,  and  she  surprised  herself  by  finding 
that  Salby  Chase  seemed,  as  she  thought  of  it 
now,  in  its  solitude — for  I^ady  l,urgan  had  gone 
away  to  stay  with  relatives,  and  I^urgan  had 
taken  chambers  in  I^ondon — as  a  sweet  place  of 
retreat.  It  was  pathetic  to  see  this  sweet,  home 
loving,  home  making  nature  cling  to  its  instincts 
under  the  most  adverse  circumstances.  She  was 
not  happy  with  Mrs.  Sanderson.  She  wondered 
if  her  stepmother  had  always  been  as  she  was 
now,  or  if  she  herself  had  changed  so  much.  It 
displeased  her  to  find  that  Mrs.  Sanderson  sub- 
scribed to  a  press  clipping  bureau,  and  carefully 
looked  at  every  mention  which  was  made  of 
them. 

209 


210  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"It  is  perfectly  proper  that  people  should 
know  from  what  point  of  view  the  general 
public  sees  them,"  her  stepmother  said  one  day, 
when  Alice  found  her  going  through  an  envelope 
of  pasted  slips. 

It  seemed  to  Alice,  presently,  that  she  was 
regarded  more  as  the  Countess  of  Lurgan  than 
as  a  daughter  of  the  house  ;  and  then  it  was  that 
she  grew  homesick  for  the  only  semblance  of 
home  left  to  her — Salby  Chase.  She  planned  to 
go  there  without  telling  any  one.  She  would 
take  Celeste,  and  there  were  servants  enough 
in  the  house  to  look  after  her  simple  wants. 

It  was  December  now,  not  far  from  Christmas, 
and  Alice  thought  out  plans  that  she  had 
originally  made  last  year.  Her  being  in  mourn- 
ing would  not  interfere  with  her  Christmas  trees 
and  school  feasts.  It  had  been  a  long  time  after 
her  encounter  with  Mrs.  Welles  before  she  had 
taken  up  her  work  among  the  people  on  the  estate 
again,  but  she  was  alone  in  it  now. 

One  morning,  as  she  and  her  stepmother  and 
her  sister  sat  together  under  the  striped  awning 
which  covered  half  the  terrace  of  their  pink 
stucco  villa,  she  told  them,  quite  casually,  that 
she  was  going  back  to  England.  Connie  pro- 
tested, but  Mrs.  Sanderson  made  almost  no 
comment,  except,  "  I  suppose  I,ord  I^urgan  is 
growing  impatient  over  your  long  absence." 


HER  LADYSHIP.  211 

Mrs.  Sanderson  planned  to  take  a  house  in 
lyondon  for  the  following  spring.  She  and 
Connie  would  still  be  in  mourning,  but  it  was 
something  to  come  into  the  great  city,  and  learn 
its  ways,  before  it  became  necessary  to  take  up 
the  battle  for  social  life  there.  And  Mrs.  San- 
derson wanted  to  give  that  clipping  bureau  some- 
thing to  do.  It  would  take  her  some  months  to 
decorate  her  great  house  in  lyondon,  and  to 
breathe  in  the  atmosphere.  Alice  left  behind 
her  at  least  one  person  whose  brain  was  large 
with  plans. 

Connie  not  only  saw  her  go  with  loud  regret, 
but  insisted  upon  going  with  her.  Upon  that 
project,  however,  Mrs.  Sanderson  used  her  power 
of  veto. 

"I  am  sure  I  do  not  see  why  we  cannot," 
Connie  said.  "  There  is  nothing  in  this  dead 
and  alive  place  but  idiots  of  Frenchmen  and 
cactus  and  blue  sea." 

"  I  did  not  suppose  you  cared  for  gaiety  just 
now,  and  I  am  sure  that  is  not  what  your  sister 
is  leaving  us  for." 

"She  is  leaving  us  for  some  sort  of  life,  I  will 
wager,"  Connie  said  crossly.  "By  the  way, 
Alice,  do  you  know  these  people  that  the  paper 
says  Lurgan  has  been  giving  a  dinner  party  for  ? 
Some  actors  and  queer  people  like  that. ' ' 

"I  know  nothing  about  them." 


212  HER  LADYSHIP. 

"  Well,  you  may  know  that  when  I  get  mar- 
ried I  am  going  to  find  out  exactly  what  is  going 
on.  Maybe  you'd  better  go  home.  When  the 
cat's  away,  }rou  know  !  " 

But  it  was  not  of  her  husband  and  his  theatri- 
cal dinner  parties  that  Alice  thought  when  she 
reached  I/>ndon.  She  found  its  roar  refreshing. 
It  was  the  great  city  !  After  seeing  New  York 
and  Chicago,  the  pictures  which  she  had  held  of 
these  metropolises  of  her  native  land  dwindled. 
After  all,  she  decided,  if  freedom  had  come  to 
her — and  now  she  supposed  that  it  never  would 
or  could — she  would  live  in  England. 

As  she  thought  of  freedom,  she  thought  of 
Batterman's  generosity.  He  would  have  made 
it  plain  to  her,  if  he  could,  that  she  was  a  rich 
woman  in  her  own  right,  after  all ;  but  she  feared 
that  he  knew  her  secret ;  knew  that  she  was 
lonely,  sick,  longing  for  the  touch  of  a  sympa- 
thetic hand.  Her  face  burned  at  the  thought. 
She  was  glad,  almost,  that  she  was  in  a  different 
part  of  the  world.  How  could  she  go  about  her 
daily  tasks  seeing  Chris  every  day,  and  never 
betraying  herself  ?  It  was  too  much  to  ask  of 
any  woman.  She  would  let  him  do  nothing  for 
her,  and  he  would  be  over  there  in  America. 
There  was  a  comfort  in  the  thought  which  made 
the  hot  tears  spring  to  her  eyes.  Taking  up  her 
life,  now,  meant  entering  upon  a  long  road  whose 


HER   LADYSHIP.  213 

first  break  must  be  the  shadow  of  death.  There 
was  no  destiny  for  her  except  the  humdrum  one 
of  daily  life.  By  and  by  the  dust  of  every  day 
events  would  sift  into  the  ugly  scars  that  were 
left. 

One  cannot  grieve  always,  even  for  one's  dead 
parent  or  one's  dead  consciousness. 


XXIV. 

TIT"  HEN  at  last  the  Sandersons  were  settled  in 
London,  their  coming  made  less  of  a  rip- 
ple in  Alice's  life  than  she  could  have  dreamed 
in  that  far  off  time  when  she  had  first  thought 
of  them  there.  Mrs.  Sanderson's  mourning 
rapidly  lightened  itself  until  it  was  only  notice- 
able in  the  wa>'  of  collars  of  black  velvet  sewed 
with  pearls  around  her  throat  when  she  wore  her 
evening  dress  low,  and  in  a  reminiscent  tone 
when  she  spoke  of  America — an  attention  to  her 
native  land  which  she  bestowed  less  and  less 
whenever  the  conversation  was  in  her  own  hands. 
When  her  English  acquaintances  took  it  in  theirs 
it  was  generally  directed  toward  America.  They 
appeared  to  rest  under  the  idea  that  Americans 
must  be  astonished  at  everything  they  saw  in 
England,  and  would  delight  in  lecturing  upon 
their  native  manners  and  customs  to  a  civilized 
audience.  Mrs.  Sanderson  was  a  woman  of  in- 
finite tact,  and  very  clever  at  warding  off  danger- 
ous subjects,  but  Constance  was  either  less  clever 
or  more  audacious. 

Lurgan  had  welcomed  them  in  London  with 
214 


HER  IvADYSHIP.  215 

something  like  effusion.  He  was  doing  a  great 
many  things  with  a  little  more  manner  than  was 
usual  with  him.  His  spirits  were  high  and  fever- 
ish, and  he  was  going  about  more  this  season 
than  ever  before. 

Mrs.  Sanderson  had  waited  until  all  her  plans 
were  completed,  and  then  had  taken  a  house  in 
Park  Lane,  one  of  which  had  a  coat  of  arms 
carved  over  the  doors  and  the  gateways.  She 
had  smiled  a  little  as  she  took  it,  and  Constance, 
quick  to  read  her  thoughts,  had  turned  to  Lur- 
gan,  who  walked  through  the  picture  gallery  of 
their  new  abode  by  their  side. 

' '  They  talk  about  Americans  caring  for  money  ! 
When  an  American  has  money  enough  to  own  a 
house  like  this,  he  does  not  let  it  to  the  first 
chance  comer,  ancestors  thrown  in." 

"  He  hasn't  any  ancestors  to  throw  in,  gener- 
ally," Lurgan  responded  amiably. 

' '  But  he  has  plenty  of  respectable  bath  rooms," 
Miss  Sanderson  replied.  ' '  Of  the  two,  I  believe 
I  prefer  the  latter  for  daily  use. " 

But  they  were  very  comfortable  in  the  ances- 
tral home  of  a  duke,  with  its  lovely  old  walled 
garden,  and  in  the  society  which  flowed  in  upon 
them  there.  Mrs.  Sanderson  was  entirely  in  her 
element — in  an  ele*nent  which  Alice  had  never 
known.  The  pushing  she  had  done  with  her 
husband's  money  in  Chicago  had  left  her  with 


2l6  HER  LADYSHIP. 

a  rather  thick  skin — callous,  indeed,  here  and 
there ;  and  instead  of  shrinking  at  a  blow  or  a 
push,  she  very  promptly  returned  it,  if  not  ex- 
actly in  kind,  at  least  in  a  way  which  the  recipient 
remembered.  Presently  Mrs.  Sanderson,  "  the 
rich  American  widow,"  and  her  pretty  daughter, 
became  something  like  the  fashion. 

Lurgan's  marriage  was  reported  to  have  turned 
out  well.  His  wife  was  everything  that  was 
desirable,  and  "good  form"  in  a  quiet  way; 
rather  ignorant,  no  doubt,  and  an  alien,  but  she 
had  brought  him  a  fortune  and  had  not  annoyed 
him.  And  here  was  another  sister  much  hand- 
somer, much  richer,  for  of  course  she  was  her 
mother's  heiress.  But  there  were  one  or  two 
shrewd  brains  who  looked  that  matter  twice  in 
the  face. 

"  See  here,  Alice  !  "  I^ady  Fortescue  said  one 
afternoon,  as  she  stopped  her  carriage  by  Alice's 
in  the  park,  "  who  is  this  good  looking  American 
chap  your  stepmother  is  leading  about  ?  Is  she 
going  to  marry  him,  or  is  she  training  him  for 
Connie  ?  ' ' 

"Whom  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  come  !  It's  all  in  the  family.  Is  your 
stepmother  thinking  of  marrying  again?  I  am 
sure  there  is  no  reason  why  she  should  not.  She 
is  young  and  pretty.  She  actually  appears  to 
grow  younger  every  day  of  her  life,  and  she's  a 


HER  LADYSHIP.  217 

rich  woman.  I  met  the  American  there  yester- 
day. It  appears  he  was  at  the  same  place  when 
they  were  abroad.  Did  you  know  him  in 
America  ? ' ' 

' '  Do  you  mean  Mr.  Batterrnan  ?  ' ' 

' '  Of  course.  He  has  been  everywhere  with 
them  for  the  past  week." 

' '  You  know  I  have  had  a  cold  for  a  week,  and 
Connie  has  had  so  many  engagements ' ' 

"  Of  course,"  I,ady  Fortescue  said.  "  I  have 
asked  him  to  my  dinner  dance  next  Thursday.  I 
had  no  idea  you  had  such  respectable  looking 
men  in  America.  If  you  grow  them  like  that 
over  there,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why  you 
come  to  England  husband  hunting.  He's  as  big 
and  well  groomed,  and  appears  to  have  decidedly 
better  manners  than  most  of  the  men  about.  And 
I  suppose  he  has  those  beautiful  ideas  about  let- 
ting a  woman  have  her  own  way  which  we  hear 
are  so  common  in  America.  It  is  we  poor 
English  women  who  suffer  !  "  And  Theo  drew 
a  deep  sigh,  while  Alice  smiled  faintly.  I^ady 
Fortescue  had  never  allowed  the  slightest  dicta- 
tion as  to  her  own  movements  during  her  mar- 
ried life. 

The  victorias  parted,  and  Alice  went  on. 
People  bowed  to  her,  and  then  said  to  one 
another  that  I^ady  L,urgan  gave  herself  airs, 
which  was  only  to  be  expected  of  an  American. 


218  HER  LADYSHIP. 

But  the  poor  girl,  a  girl  still  in  heart  and  con- 
science, and  in  that  tender  sentiment  which 
would  never  allow  her  to  grow  old,  was  carrying 
on  a  war  within  herself  which  left  her  miserable. 
Chris  was  here  and  she  had  not  seen  him  !  The 
very  mention  of  his  name  as  it  flew  to  her  lips 
had  sent  a  tremor  over  her.  She  fairly  ground 
her  teeth  together  in  her  vexation  with  herself, 
and  back  in  her  throat  was  a  lump  which  she 
could  not  put  away. 

It  was  Connie.  It  must  have  always  been 
Connie.  He  was  so  fond  of  her  as  a  child.  They 
had  always  been  friends.  She  would  conquer 
her  own  feeling  !  She  would  treat  him  like  any- 
body else. 

On  Thursday  night  her  maid  wondered  what 
the  matter  could  be.  I,ady  Lurgan,  who  never 
even  asked  what  gown  she  was  to  wear,  who  read 
a  book  while  her  hair  was  being  dressed,  had  all 
at  once  become  something  more  than  particular. 
She  had  suddenly  ordered  changes  made  in  her 
gown.  It  had  been  heavy  with  lace,  but  she  had 
that  taken  out  and  soft  frilliugs  of  white  chiffon 
put  over  the  shoulders.  After  her  hair  was 
dressed  in  the  ugly  English  fashion  made  popular 
by  the  wigs  of  the  Princess  of  Wales,  she  had  it 
all  taken  down  and  arranged  in  the  soft  bronze 
knot  which  she  had  worn  in  America. 

"It  is  lovely,"  Celeste  said,  "and  quite  my 


HER  LADYSHIP.  219 

lady's  style.  The  other  is  aging.  If  that  beau- 
tiful color  can  only  be  kept  in  the  cheeks,  it  will 
be  charming  !  ' ' 

But  as  the  carriage  drew  near  Lady  Fortescue's 
house,  the  "  beautiful  color  "  faded  completely, 
and  it  was  a  white  woman  with  wistful  eyes  and 
a  drawn  mouth  who  greeted  Batterman  when  he 
came  to  speak  to  her  for  the  moment  before 
dinner.  It  was  only  a  word,  but  it  was  one  to 
which  Alice  replied  in  the  stiffest  tones.  All 
through  the  long  succession  of  courses  and  the 
gay  talk  she  sat  silent  and  distrait. 

There  were  two  places  at  the  table  where  in- 
terest centered,  one  where  Connie  was,  and  one 
where  Mrs.  Henderson  sat  resplendent  with  Lur- 
gan  on  one  side  of  her  and  Batterman  on  the 
other.  She  wore  a  black  spangled  gown  which 
was  evidently  designed  to  give  a  serpentine  effect. 
Alice  heard  the  woman  beyond  laugh  to  the  man 
on  her  left,  and  say  : 

"  That  gown  reminds  one  of  Mrs.  Henderson's 
old  desire  for  the  music  hall  stage,  doesn't  it?  " 

And  the  reply  was  not  even  whispered.  ' '  She 
has  made  a  mistake.  That  is  the  dress  of  the 
lady  contortionist. ' ' 

"  Where  did  she  get  that  tiara  ?  "  was  the  next 
question ;  and  Alice  felt  rather  than  saw  that 
the  man  made  a  feint  of  looking  at  her  own,  as 
if  to  see  that  it  was  in  its  place,  before  he  said  : 


220  HER   LADYSHIP. 

"At  any  rate,  they  are  not  the  family 
jewels. ' ' 

Cold  to  iciness  on  the  outside,  in  her  heart  she 
was  sick  with  anger.  Once  she  thought,  "  How 
can  I  sit  here,  insulted  like  this  ?  What  have  / 
done  to  have  such  a  life  ?  Is  it  that  I  am  wrong 
with  the  world  ?  ' '  She  sat  where  she  could  look 
at  Batterman,  but  she  kept  her  eyes  resolutely 
turned  away.  She  could  not  bear  to  face  him. 

When  Lady  Fortescue  arose,  after  picking  up 
her  guests  with  her  eyes,  Lurgan,  as  her  cousin, 
sprang  toward  the  door  to  hold  it  open  for  her 
to  pass  through.  As  Alice  went  by  he  smilingly 
leaned  toward  her,  so  that  to  the  room  it  looked 
as  if  he  were  giving  her  a  friendly  word,  but 
what  Alice  heard  was,  ' '  You  pay  Batterman  too 
great  a  compliment,"  in  the  cold,  sarcastic  voice 
she  had  almost  ceased  to  dread. 

After  she  had  gone,  Luigan's  spirits  appeared 
to  grow  higher.  He  sat  down  near  Batterman 
and  began  to  talk  to  him  in  a  way  which  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  every  man  at  the  table. 
His  manner  was  so  jovial  that  it  was  almost 
patronizing.  Batterman  looked  at  him  with 
something  like  toleration  for  a  moment,  and  fin- 
ished the  cigarette  he  had  taken  up  when  the 
ladies  left  the  room. 

"  If  you  are  so  much  interested  in  Mexico  and 
Mexican  mines,"  he  said,  closing  a  conversation 


HER  LADYSHIP.  ?2I 

in  which  he  had  taken  no  part,  except  to  answer 
Lurgan's  point  blank  questions,  "I  will  have 
my  secretary  send  you  some  lists  of  statistics,  or 
you  can  have  them  at  any  time  by  addressing 
my  offices  in  New  York. ' ' 

The  men  who  had  been  listening  looked  at  the 
tips  of  their  cigars,  or  the  table — anywhere  but 
at  each  other  or  I/urgan's  face.  As  he  spoke, 
Chris  arose  and  passed  to  the  window,  out  of  it, 
and  along  the  flowery  balcony  to  the  drawing 
room.  He  did  not  get  near  Alice,  but  sat  down 
by  Lady  Fortescue. 

If  he  had  looked  at  Alice  he  would  have  seen 
a  woman  who  had  been  born  anew  in  the  past 
few  moments.  After  all,  a  woman  is  only  a 
woman,  and  human  nature  is  deep  within  us  all. 
As  she  had  married  I<urgan  because  she  would 
not  be  pitied  by  Chris,  so  now  she  could  and 
would  sink  her  sadness  when  he  was  here  again. 
Here,  too,  was  Connie,  and  Connie's  happiness 
must  be  considered  ;  and  here,  too,  was  her  own 
jealous  heart.  If  I^urgan  could  see,  Batterman 
might  see.  He  could  not,  he  should  not.  Again 
she  would  show  him  that  it  was  all  a  mistake. 
He  should  think  her  happy.  She  would  give 
him  to  Connie.  Of  course,  she  told  herself,  she 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  but  she  would  be 
happy  if  she  knew  that  Connie  was  going  to 
marry  so  old  and  good  a  friend  as  this, 


222  HER  LADYSHIP. 

And  as  she  said  it,  there  was  a  burning  lump 
in  her  throat  which  almost  choked  her.  She 
wanted  to  get  away  somewhere  out  of  sight  and 
fight  her  battle  out.  She  was  a  wicked  woman 
to  begrudge  her  young  sister  her  happiness,  and 
yet,  deep  in  her  soul,  she  knew  now  that  she  had 
always  thought  that  Chris  would  never  marry. 
How  could  she  think  of  him  as  there  in  the  fam- 
ily, as  her  sister's  husband — Chris,  who  belonged 
to  her  ?  She  was  ashamed  and  she  was  heart 
sick,  and  her  emotions  worked  upon  her  as  a 
fever.  The  face  which  had  been  pale  a  moment 
before  became  brilliant,  as  if  a  fire  were  shining 
through  alabaster.  The  red  lips  parted  to  let 
the  breath  through  ;  the  brown  eyes,  with  their 
flecks  of  gold,  widened  and  took  on  a  new  light, 
and  the  woman  who  sat  by  Lady  Lurgan  found 
that  she  could  talk.  All  the  pluck  of  her  pioneer 
race  rushed  to  the  fore.  She  was  not  the  girl, 
now,  who  had  come  here  ignorant,  a  little  afraid, 
unconscious  of  her  ground.  She  was  the  woman 
who  knew  every  shade  of  the  manners  of  her 
time,  all  the  jargon  of  the  society  in  which  she 
lived,  all  the  social  values.  She  had  kept  her 
cards  put  away  indifferentl}*,  but  now  that  the 
time  had  come  when  she  felt  the  impulse  to  play 
them,  she  knew  her  game  ;  and  she  had  no  mis- 
takes to  live  down,  except  those  she  had  made  jn 
the  beginning  of  her  domestic  life. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  223 

She  was  sitting  near  Mrs.  Henderson,  and  she 
turned  to  her  suddenly  and  asked  what  her  plans 
were  for  August. 

' '  Are  you  and  your  husband  disengaged  for 
the  fortnight  after  we  leave  town.  Will  you 
come  to  us — both  of  you  ?  I  hear  he  is  to  be 
back  in  London  again  very  shortly. ' ' 

Self  possessed  and  ready  as  Mrs.  Henderson 
habitually  was,  she  could  not  prevent  a  slight 
change  in*  her  face,  and  she  did  not  answer  at 
once. 

"I  shall  have  to  consult  my  husband,"  she 
said  finally.  "I  do  not  know  what  plans  he 
may  have  made." 

"  Do  so,  but  try  and  persuade  him  to  come. 
You  know  we  shall  miss  you  so  much  if  we  have 
theatricals." 

And  Alice,  with  a  smile  of  kindness  which 
made  Mrs.  Henderson  set  her  lips  together  hard, 
passed  on.  She  sat  down  by  her  stepmother  and 
told  her  that  she  was  arranging  an  August  house 
party  at  Salby  Chase,,  and  wanted  her  to  brirjg 
Constance  ;  and  then,  with  her  head  up,  and  this 
new  light  in  her  eyes,  she  passed  on  to  Lady 
Fortescue  and  Batterman  just  as  Lurgan  and  the 
rest  of  the  men  came  into  the  room. 

Batterman  rose  at  her  approach,  and  she  stood 
beside  him,  looking  squarely,  laughingly  into 
his  face,  making  a  picture  that  Lurgan  had 


224  HER  LADYSHIP. 

never  seen,  showing  to  Chris  the  old  Alice  min- 
gled with  a  new  Alice,  and  astonishing  Lady 
Fortescue . 

"  Will  you  come  to  Salby  Chase  for  the  first 
fortnight  in  August?"  she  asked  them  both. 
' '  I  am  going  to  make  up  a  house  party,  and  we 
shall  have  theatricals." 

"  Now  you  must  know  I  cannot,"  Theo  said, 
' '  because  I  am  going  to  have  some  people  myself, 
and  I  have  just  invited  Mr.  Batterman  to  stay 
with  me,  and  he  has  accepted.  It  is  on  the 
shore,  so  you  will  be  fairly  comfortable,  and  the 
Augusts  in  our  country  are  not  too  hot,"  she 
explained  to  Batterman. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  room  Mrs.  Henderson 
was  talking  to  Lurgan. 

' '  What  has  come  over  your  wife  ?  Do  you 
know  what  she  did  just  now?  She  asked  me 
down  to  the  Chase  for  the  first  week  in  August 
to  have  theatricals  !  It  looks  as  if  our  plans 
were  going  to  be  taken  out  of  our  hands." 

Lurgan  hardly  heard  her.  His  eyes  wrere  on 
his  wife  and  Battermau. 

"Oh,  well,  you  are  coming." 

"  It's  rather  startling  to  be  asked  to  make  one 
of  a  house  party  in  a  place  where  you  had  sup- 
posed you  had  made  your  own  plans  for  that 
time.  Did  jrou,  or  did  you  not,  tell  me  to  make 
up  my  own  party  for  Salby  Chase  for  August, 


HER  LADYSHIP.  225 

and  didn't  you  say  you  would  see  that  the  plan 
was  carried  through  ?  ' ' 

' '  All  the  simpler,  if  Lady  I^urgan  makes 
it  up." 

"Not  at  all." 

"The  worst  of  a  woman  is,"  I,urgan  said, 
"  that  she  likes  to  come  just  to  the  verge  of  com- 
promising herself.  Isn't  it  a  thousand  times 
better  to  get  what  you  want  if  you  can  have  it 
arranged  naturally  ? ' ' 

"  I  do  not  care  to  be  a  puppet  in  I/ady  I,ur- 
gan's  hands." 

"I'll  promise  you  are  never  that,"  I,urgan 
said,  and  from  the  tone  of  his  voice  it  was  evident 
that  he  had  ceased  to  bow  entirely  to  Mrs.  Hen- 
derson's will. 


XXV. 

A  I/THOUGH  Mrs.  Henderson  did  not  have 
her  vanity  satisfied  by  letting  the  whole  of 
her  world  understand  that  she,  and  she  only,  had 
arranged  the  house  party  at  Salby  Chase,  it  was 
there,  and  she  was  in  the  midst  of  it  by  the 
early  days  of  August. 

I/)ndon  had  become  a  howling  wilderness, 
from  which  everybody  but  the  tourist  and  the 
people  who  could  not  get  away  had  fled.  At 
Salby,  the  breeze  from  the  ocean  swept  over  the 
great  lawns,  about  the  terraces  and  gardens,  and 
through  the  wide  rooms.  It  was  a  pleasant  com- 
pany which  Lady  Lurgan  had  gathered  together. 
She  laughed  at  herself  bitterly  when  she  saw 
how  easy  it  had  been  to  carry  out  her  plans  when 
she  lost  all  anxiety  as  to  their  success.  One 
human  brain  can  only  hold  one  passion  at  a  time, 
and  her  intense  desire  to  take  away  from  herself, 
as  well  as  from  others,  all  knowledge  of  her  love 
for  Batterman,  and  of  his  strong  influence  over 
her,  caused  her  to  change  all  her  habits  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye.  She  went  back  to  Salby 
Chase  with  the  manners  of  its  mistress.  There 
226 


HER  LADYSHIP.  227 

was  one  brief  instant  in  which  she  met  the 
dowager  I^ady  Lurgan,  but  it  passed. 

' '  I  am  very  glad  to  see  that  at  last  you  are 
taking  some  interest  in  the  house,"  the  elder 
lady  said.  ' '  But  I  hardly  call  it  auspicious  that 
you  should  begin  your  invitations  to  the  Chase 
by  bringing  that  Henderson  woman  here  again." 

"  She  is  a  great  friend  of  your  son's,"  Alice 
responded  coolly.  ' '  I  prefer  to  invite  her  here 
myself.  The  world  might  be  censorious  enough 
to  talk,  otherwise." 

Lurgan  was  at  the  door  as  she  spoke,  and  as 
he  came  into  the  room  his  mother  repeated  the 
words  to  him. 

1 '  Alice  says  that  she  is  obliged  to  ask  Mrs. 
Henderson  here  to  prevent  your  doing  so  and 
making  a  scandal." 

"  Very  kind  and  considerate,  I  am  sure,"  he 
responded,  picking  up  his  morning  letters  and 
running  them  through  his  hand. 

Alice,  without  a  change  of  countenance, 
went  on  with  her  breakfast.  A  few  minutes 
later,  when  his  mother  had  left  the  room,  L,urgan 
turned  to  her.  She  could  see  by  his  face  that 
he  was  thinking  of  some  retaliation  for  the 
blow  he  had  just  received. 

' '  And  so  your  stepmother  prevented  your 
marrying  Batterman  because  she  cared  for  him 
herself  !  It  is  extremely  generous  of  you  and 


228  HER  LADYSHIP. 

Theo  to  throw  them  together  down  here.  I'm 
not  so  everlastingly  sure  that  Theo  is  not  a  little 
fond  of  him  herself.  He  appears  to  be  just  the 
sort  of  chap  to  take  the  fancy  of  a  woman.  I 
think  it  altogether  likely  that  neither  of  them 
has  any  particular  chance.  He  is  an  ambitious, 
pushing  young  man.  He  will  probably  find 
some  girl  of  family  and  social  position  who  will 
marry  him,  now  that  he  has  money.  That  is 
what  he  is  likely  to  look  out  for,  just  as  he  tried 
to  marry  you  when  he  was  poor. ' ' 

"  Who  told  you  that  Mr.  Batterman  wanted  to 
marry  me  ? ' ' 

"  It  was  perfectly  plain  to  every  one.  By 
Gad,  I  believe  you  would  have  done  it,  if  I 
hadn't  come  along  and  taught  you  that  you  had 
the  same  ambition  that  he  had — to  get  on  in  the 
world  and  leave  the  sphere  you  were  born  in. ' ' 

"  I  certainly  left  the  sphere  in  which  I  was 
born  when  I  reached  one  where  a  man  may  insult 
his  wife,"  Alice  said,  and  she  arose  and  left  the 
room. 

The  sun  was  shining  outside,  the  heads  of  the 
roses  that  grew  along  the  stone  terrace  were 
heavy  with  dew  and  their  own  sweetness.  She 
took  her  garden  shears  and  began  cutting  them, 
forgetting,  except  for  a  vague,  uncomfortable 
resentment  which  she  had  grown  never  to  lack 
entirely,  what  her  husband  had  said.  He  was 


HER  LADYSHIP.  229 

as  nothing  to  her.  His  life  did  not  belong  to 
hers  at  all.  She  pushed  him  away  as  a  disagree- 
able subject.  She  despised  him  a  little  more 
because  he  could  believe  that  Chris  had  wanted 
to  marry  her  on  account  of  her  fortune. 

Lttrgau  left  his  letters  and  the  breakfast  table, 
and  came  to  the  window,  watching  her.  There 
was  a  line  of  dissatisfaction  between  his  eyes,  a 
gnawing  at  the  corner  of  his  lip  which  showed  an 
irritation  he  seldom  allowed  to  become  visible. 
He  felt  that  he  had  been  in  some  manner  de- 
ceived. This  was  not  the  woman  he  had  so 
tamely  and  quietly  allowed  to  put  him  out  of  her 
life. 

The  next  few  days  found  no  new  flattery  for 
his  vanity.  Mrs.  Sanderson  and  Constance  were 
the  first  of  the  guests  to  arrive.  If  I^ady  I,urgan 
the  elder  had  had  any  intention  of  passing  them 
by,  she  found  that  she  had  met  with  an  impos- 
sibility. If  there  was  any  patronage,  it  came 
from  the  other  side.  It  is  hard  to  tell  what  tack 
Mrs.  Sanderson  might  have  taken  before  this 
new  development  in  Alice,  but  now  she  pushed 
her  advantage.  Her  first  idea  had  been  to  class 
herself  with  the  dowager  as  a  guardian  spirit  of 
the  ' '  young  people  ' '  ;  but  when  every  advance 
was  met  with  stony  impertinence,  Mrs.  Sander- 
son took  a  new  ground,  and  blandly  informed 
I^ady  I^urgan  that  she  was  sure  she  need  never  be 


230  HER  LADYSHIP. 

afraid  that  Alice  would  find  her  a  trouble  ;  that 
the  young  countess  was  extremely  kind,  and 
would  probably  make  her  feel  at  home  at  Salby 
Chase  as  long  as  she  cared  to  stay. 

' '  Old  people  never  seem  to  annoy  the  dear 
child,"  she  added  blandly.  It  was  said  so 
sweetly,  and  with  such  an  evident  desire  to  put 
her  at  her  ease  in  the  house  she  had  ruled  so 
long  with  a  rod  of  iron,  that  L,ady  Lurgan  found 
no  answer  capable  of  expressing  her  feelings. 

Connie  found  herself  supremely  happy  here, 
and  every  day,  when  Alice  looked  at  her  sister, 
she  tried  to  put  down  within  herself  the  pang  of 
envy  with  which  she  saw  this  buoyant  young 
creature  entering  upon  all  those  things  of  which 
it  sometimes  seemed  to  her  circumstances  had 
bereft  her.  Almost  every  day  Batterman  drove 
or  rode  over  from  Lady  Fortescue's  house,  and 
always  he  was  to  be  found  with  her  stepmother 
or  Constance,  walking  or  sitting  on  the  terrace. 

Alice  came  up  through  the  park  the  first  day 
he  came  down,  and  saw  his  back,  as  he  walked 
along  by  Constance's  side,  his  riding  stick  behind 
him  in  his  gloved  hands,  his  broad  shoulders  only 
two  or  three  inches  above  the  fine  ones  Constance 
carried  so  proudly.  Alice  leaned  against  the 
balustrade,  a  little  sick  and  faint  for  a  moment, 
and  then  she  walked  resolutely  forward  to  meet 
them,  that  flame  of  undying  purpose  in  her  face. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  231 

"Won't  you  stay  to  luncheon,  Mr.  Batter- 
man?  "  she  called.  "  We  are  to  have  Mr.  Field- 
ing, the  great  actor.  He  has  kindly  consented  to 
give  out  the  parts  of  the  play  and  set  the  actors  to 
rehearsing  properly." 

' '  Who's  to  play  ?  ' '  Constance  asked. 

"Oh,  it  is  a  sort  of  reward  of  merit,  I  believe. 
I  do  not  even  know  the  name  of  the  piece.  Mrs. 
Henderson  takes  the  chief  part.  She  knows  Mr. 
Fielding,  and  has  induced  him  to  come  down. 
Probably  you  will  be  asked,  and  perhaps,  if  you 
stay,  Mr.  Batterman,  you  may  get  a  chance 
yourself. ' ' 

"  Do  stay,  Chris,"  Connie  said.  "  I  am  going 
to  keep  you,  in  any  case.  Who  knows  ?  They 
may  cast  me  for  something,  and  I  may  need  a 
lover.  I  couldn't  consent  to  go  falling  about  in 
anybody's  arms  but  yours." 

' '  In  that  case  I  see  nothing  left  for  me  to  do. 
Thank  you  very  much,  Lady  Lurgan." 

Fielding  was  a  very  great  man  indeed  in  a  cer- 
tain London  set,  much  affected  at  the  moment. 
He  was  supposed  to  act  upon  some  peculiarly 
arranged  principle  which  was  made  up  of  the 
intuition  of  genius  and  the  science  of  a  sort  of 
second  sight.  He  talked  in  a  very  beautiful  way 
about  it,  and  was  most  impressive  at  dinners  ; 
but  being  at  bottom  a  very  shrewd  man,  he  man- 
aged to  do  some  very  excellent  work  all  around, 


232  HER  LADYSHIP. 

and  his  little  fad  hurt  nobody,  made  him  an 
object  of  worship  by  a  number  of  women,  and 
might  in  time  bring  him  a  knighthood,  if  the 
queen  lived  long  enough. 

When  the  luncheon  was  over  and  the  play  was 
brought  out,  he  passed  over  the  heads  of  three 
or  four  ladies  whose  experience  in  the  lately 
revived  fashion  of  theatricals  was  as  great  as 
time  had  permitted,  and  for  the  second  character 
of  the  play  pitched  upon  Alice.  It  was  a  short 
part,  entirely  subordinate  to  that  of  the  brilliant 
woman  of  the  world  which  was  to  be  played  by 
Mrs.  Henderson. 

At  first  Alice  refused  point  blank  to  take  it. 
The  great  actor  looked  at  her  sadly. 

' '  But  the  part  is  yours, ' '  he  said.  ' '  No  one 
else  would  know  how  to  play  it  instinctively.  In 
these  private  theaters  we  must  get  the  real  thing. 
The  stage  training  which  would  make  any 
woman  adapt  herself  to  any  part  is  wanting 
here.  Your  husband  is  to  take  the  part  with 
which  you  will  play.  There  can  be  no  objection, 
my  dear  I/ady  I^urgan,  I  am  sure." 

"  Oh,  take  it,  Alice,"  Constance  said. 

Lurgan  came  forward  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  said,  with  an  expression  and  tone 
which  sounded  rather  humorous  to  the  listeners 
who  were  not  in  the  confidence  of  the  family 
and  its  domestic  relations,  "Of  course,  if  Lady 


HER  LADYSHIP.  233 

Lurgau  objects  to  me,  and  would  prefer  another, 
I  will  retire." 

Mrs.  Henderson,  with  some  additional  color 
in  her  cheeks,  said  nothing.  She  had  not 
expected  lyady  Lurgau  to  be  included  in  the  cast, 
but  she  had  no  possible  objection  to  her  being 
there.  She  had  absolute  belief  in  her  own 
powers — a  belief  which  had  been  strengthened 
by  Fielding,  who  had  told  her  that  she  would 
probably  make  a  success  upon  the  stage  if  she 
were  a  nobody. 

Ever  since  that  night  when  Alice,  quite  uncon- 
sciously, had  invited  her  toSalby  Chase  to  make 
one  of  the  party  which  she  had  considered  of 
her  own  arranging,  Mrs.  Henderson  had  looked 
upon  Lurgan's  wife  as  in  some  way  a  rival.  She 
knew  that  Alice  was  nothing  to  her  husband, 
who  was  bound  hand  and  foot,  seemingly,  to  her 
own  chariot  wheels  ;  but  here  was  a  new  Alice, 
a  woman  she  had  never  seen  before,  and  in- 
stinctively there  arose  in  her  heart  a  fear  of  what 
she  might  do  next.  As  with  all  connections  of 
this  character,  as  I^urgan  became  more  and  more 
necessary  to  her,  as  she  gave  him  more  and  more 
room  in  her  life,  she  saw  the  slenderness  of  the 
bond  by  which  she  held  him,  and  she  saw  what 
an  advantage  he  would  gain  by  going  back  to  his 
wife.  Alice  was  always  L,ady  Lurgan.  That 
dignity,  and  the  dignity  of  her  pure,  sweet  life, 


234  HER  LADYSHIP. 

could  not  be  taken  away  from  her.  Mrs.  Hen- 
derson could  not  conceive  of  the  state  of  mind  of 
a  woman  who  would  repulse  the  erring  husband 
who  came  back  to  his  allegiance. 

In  this  theatrical  project,  she  felt  that  she 
could  show  herself  to  L,urgan,  and  to  everybody 
else — and  she  saw  that  other  people's  opinions 
had  a  tremendous  weight  with  him — as  infinitely 
Alice's  superior  in  all  those  things  which  men 
such  as  he  most  admired. 

The  rehearsals  began  almost  at  once,  and  Mr. 
Fielding  only  stayed  long  enough  to  give  them  a 
fair  start,  when  he  went  back  to  London,  leav- 
ing Alice  with  some  advice  and  a  complete  copy 
of  the  play.  She  welcomed  the  diversion  gladly. 
It  was  growing  harder  and  harder,  instead  of 
easier,  as  she  had  hoped,  to  be  compelled  to  meet 
Chris  every  day.  The  play  gave  her  an  excuse 
for  wandering  off  into  solitude,  and  for  turning 
many  of  her  duties  over  to  I^ady  L,urgan  and  her 
stepmother. 

The  rehearsals  were  like  all  the  rehearsals  of 
private  theatricals,  everybody  trying  to  be  as 
stiff  and  unnatural  as  possible  in  an  effort  not  to 
be  ludicrous.  Batterman  was  asked  to  act  as 
stage  manager,  at  the  last  moment,  after  the  man 
who  had  taken  that  onerous  duty  was  suddenly 
called  away  ;  but  there  had  grown  up  a  wall  of 
constraint  between  him  and  Alice  which  neither 


HER  LADYSHIP.  235 

could  define.  To  Batterman  came  a  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  distressing  her,  and  with  it  was 
born  a  determination  to  go  away.  With  that 
determination  was  mingled  the  understanding 
that,  between  Mrs.  Henderson  and  I^urgan,  Alice 
stood  in  need  of  friendship.  He  was  not  mis- 
led by  the  light  heartedness  which  she  was 
assuming  ;  and  whatever  her  need  was  he  re- 
solved to  aid  her.  He  would  stay  in  England, 
and  leave  his  address  with  her  ;  and  then  his 
own  sense  told  him  that,  whatever  her  stress,  she 
would  not  send  for  him. 

Mrs.  Henderson  had  gone  up  to  London  to 
arrange  her  costumes,  which  were  those  of  a 
French  marquise  of  the  time  of  I^ouis  XV.  It  is 
to  be  feared  that  Alice  was  not  entirely  frank 
when  she  said  that  she  had  not  given  hers  a 
thought.  In  reality,  she  had  intrusted  the  dress 
she  wore  throughout  the  entire  play  into  the 
hands  of  her  stepmother  and  Constance.  It  was 
supposed  to  be  that  of  a  young  French  girl  just 
out  of  a  convent,  and  when  Alice  put  it  on  she 
felt  a  vague  thrill  of  memory.  She  wore  a  wig 
of  the  clear  blond  white  of  that  day,  with  its  curls 
upon  her  shoulders.  Her  gown  was  of  white 
crepe,  and  around  her  shoulders  was  a  frilled 
cape  of  fur. 

When  she  came  upon  the  stage,  Mrs.  Hender- 
son, forgetting  her  own  part  for  the  moment, 


236  HER  LADYSHIP. 

looked  at  Alice  critically,  and  saw  in  her  sim- 
plicity something  disturbing.  To  Battermau  in 
the  wings,  and  to  L,urgan  on  the  stage,  the  dress 
and  the  face  above  it  brought  back  a  late  summer 
evening  in  Chicago  by  the  lake  side,  and  a 
young  girl,  this  young  girl,  fresh  from  her  con- 
vent, inexperienced,  full  of  the  joy  of  the  promise 
of  living,  was  between  them  again.  To  one 
came  the  great  heart  pang  of  a  loss  which  was 
ever  new,  and  to  the  other  an  exultant  sense  that 
he  had  won. 

Lurgan's  part  went  to  pieces,  and  so  did  Mrs. 
Henderson's,  but  the  audience  did  not  discover 
it.  The  clever  Frenchman  who  wrote  the  play 
had  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  young  girl  lines 
of  infinite  simplicity  in  themselves,  but  full  of 
the  most  subtle  coquetry,  and  Alice  made  every 
word  tell.  She  realized,  as  she  was  saying  them, 
that  she  never  could  have  originated  those  lines, 
for  that  outer  self  by  which  she  lived  would 
never  have  voiced  them  ;  but  that  inner  self, 
which  was  her  real  self,  knew  the  shade  of  every 
syllable,  and  brought  it  out ;  knew  the  glance  of 
the  eye,  the  turn  of  the  shoulder.  It  was  as  if 
a  creature  had  been  brought  alive  out  of  the 
very  air. 

Before  the  play  was  over,  Fielding  was  half 
out  of  his  seat,  saying,  "By  Jove!  Oh,  by 
Jove  !  Isn't  that  a  pity  !  "  It  seemed  too  dread- 


HER  LADYSHIP.  237 

ful  that  the  actress  he  had  always  been  looking 
for  was  blooming  right  here  before  his  eyes,  and 
that  she  was  as  far  out  of  his  reach  as  if  she  had 
been  the  shade  of  Peg  Woffiugton.  He  could 
not  know,  nor  could  any  of  the  others  know, 
that  the  spirit  which  was  burning,  which  was 
lighting  up  this  creature  of  the  moment,  was  the 
blazing  of  half  a  dozen  long  buried  emotions. 

Mrs.  Henderson,  in  her  marquise  robes,  left 
the  stage,  and  the  curtain  came  down  upon  Alice 
in  I^urgan's  arms.  As  it  fell  between  them  and 
the  footlights,  it  left  them  in  semi  darkness,  and 
Alice  tried  to  slip  away,  but  I^urgan  held  her 
tightly. 

"  Why  do  you  go?  "  he  whispered,  and  then, 
when  she  did  not  answer,  he  laughed  huskily. 
' '  It  is  seldom  enough  I  have  ever  held  my  own 
wife  like  this." 

"  Perhaps "  she  said,  and  then  she  blushed 

at  the  thing  she  would  have  said,  but  it  was  not 
in  human  nature  not  to  think  of  giving  him  the 
taunt,  though  she  despised  herself  for  its  vul- 
garity. 

"It  is  all  your  own  fault, ' '  he  went  on  pas- 
sionately. "You  know  I  love  you,  and  only 
you.  You  hate  me,  you  torment  me,  you  drive 
me  away  from  you." 

For  the  moment  he  believed  what  he  said.  He 
saw  himself  as  a  man  who  had  always  had  a 


238  HER  LADYSHIP. 

passion  for  a  wife  who  drove  him  out  of  her 
sight,  and  he  pitied  himself  from  the  bottom 
of  his  heart. 

Alice  stood  with  a  drooping  head.  This  was 
something  she  hardly  knew  how  to  meet.  A 
great  loathing  for  the  sort  of  love  he  would  give 
her  filled  her  soul.  She  despised  herself  for  the 
stupid  pride  and  vanity  which  had  made  her 
take  this  part  and  act  it  as  she  had.  It  seemed  to 
her  impulsive  heart  that  she  had  become  de- 
graded by  this  life  she  had  seen  about  her,  this  life 
in  which  there  was  nothing  except  vanity  and  self 
seeking,  until  she  was  no  better  than  any  of  them. 

"  You  resigned  all  claim  to  being  my  husband 
long  ago, ' '  she  said  at  last. 

"You  always  disliked  me,  and  I  knew  it. 
When  you  married  me  you  loved  another  man. 
In  what  are  you  better  than  I  have  been  ?  You, 
with  your  fine  pretense  of  goodness,  so  immacu- 
late that  you  cannot  let  your  own  husband 
touch  you — and  yet  you  have  your  old  lover 
here  under  my  very  eyes  ! ' ' 

"  What  are  you  saying?  Stop  !  "  Alice  began, 
but  Lurgan  took  her  hands  in  his  and  held  them 
while  he  put  his  face  above  hers. 

"Alice,"  he  said,  "  come  back  to  me.  ]>t 
our  lives  be  what  they  ought  to  be.  I  love  you. 
You  are  my  wife.  I  will  throw  everything  else 
away." 


HER  LADYSHIP.  239 

"How  dare  you  insult  me  in  one  breath,  and 
tell  me  you  love  me  in  the  next  ?  Let  me  go  !  " 

"Oh,  well  !  Go  to  the  man  you  love  ! ."  he 
said  furiously,  and  threw  her  fairly  into  Batter- 
man's  arms — threw  her  with  such  violence  that 
had  Chris  not  caught  her  she  would  have  fallen 
to  the  floor.  Before  either  of  them  could  recover, 
L,urgan  had  walked  rapidly  away,  the  velvet 
cloak  of  his  costume  caught  back  on  his  tilted 
sword. 


XXVI. 

A  S  Kurgan  went  out  of  the  room,  Alice  drew 
herself  out  of  Batterman's  arms,  her  face 
showing  an  agony  of  shame.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  the  very  walls  were  crying  out  her  secret. 
But  Batterman  held  her  by  her  arms,  his  hands 
making  her  conscious  of  something  besides  his 
physical  strength. 

"Alice,"  he  said,  "there  is  no  necessity  of 
your  living  with  that  man.  This  is  not  the  first 
time  that  he  has  insulted  you.  I  will  not  have 
you  subjected  to  such  insults.  If  your  father 
were  alive  he  would  not  allow  it.  I  will  not 
allow  it.  You  shall  come  away  from  him. ' ' 

She  looked  into  his  face  with  eyes  that  were 
wide  and  feverish.  The  excitement  of  the  days 
which  had  gone  had  taken  out  the  heart  of  her 
endurance,  and  she  wanted  to  let  herself  go,  to 
break  down  in  sobbing  weakness.  It  had  come 
to  this,  then,  that  Chris  was,  after  all,  a  member 
of  the  family,  who  spoke  with  authority.  She 
must  be  pitied  and  taken  care  of  by  him,  after  all. 

' '  But  you  are  not  my  father — and  he  is  my 
husband. ' ' 

240 


HER  LADYSHIP.  241 

"A  right  which  he  has  forfeited."  Batter- 
man  spoke  calmly,  but  he  was  evidently  holding 
himself  by  a  strong  effort.  "  I  may  not  be  any- 
thing to  you,  but  I  must  always  be  the  man  who 
loves  you  more  than  his  own  soul,  more  than 
anything  except  your  own  happiness.  I  am,  as 
I  always  have  been,  from  the  time  when  you 
were  a  little  girl,  yours  to  do  with  as  you  will." 
He  stopped  suddenly,  and  when  he  began  again 
it  was  with  a  realization  of  what  he  saw  in 
Alice's  face,  something  he  did  not  understand. 
He  spoke  almost  as  if  he  were  answering  some 
question  she  was  asking  him.  "  I  love  you,"  he 
said.  "  I  have  always  loved  you,  and  I  would 
give  my  life  to  see  you  happy. ' ' 

Alice  shook,  as  with  a  great  chill,  under  his 
hands. 

"  Chris,"  she  said — her  voice  was  low,  but  it 
was  not  that  she  feared  to  be  overheard,  for  these 
two  were  as  much  alone  as  every  two  are  under 
the  same  circumstances,  entirely  oblivious  to  all 
the  world  around — "Chris,  did  you  really  love 
me  back  there  in  Chicago  ?  Did  you  ?  Tell  me, 
did  you  ?  ' ' 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  You  know  I  did.  You 
know  that  all  my  life,  after  I  knew  you,  I 
thought  of  nothing  else.  I  thought  that  I  saw 
you  growing  to  care  for  me.  I  dreamed  day  and 
night  of  nothing  but  you.  You  were  the  very 


242  HER   LADYSHIP. 

core  of  my  life.  You  are  still.  It  can  do  you 
no  harm  to  know  that  I  love  you  today  with  the 
same  heart  I  gave  }TOU  when  you  were  a  child. 
Only  I  think  of  you  more,  if  that  can  be,  for 
now  I  know  that  you  are  not  happy.  I  want 
you  to  be  happy. ' ' 

"  Christopher,"  she  said,  "  I  may  be  a  wicked 
woman  to  listen  to  you,  and  to  say  this — but  you 
have  made  me  happy."  She  put  her  hands  up 
until  they  touched  his  arms.  ' '  They  told  me — 
they  told  me  that  you  had  asked  me  to  marry 
you  out  of  pity,  that  you  did  not  love  me,  that 
you  pitied  me  because  I  had  shown  my  love  for 
you  so  plainly,  and  that  )7ou  only  spoke  to  spare 
us  all  mortification.  And,  Christopher  " — she 
was  speaking  in  a  perfectly  colorless  voice,  in  a 
voice  which  was  hardly  hers — "I  married  so 
that  you  would  not  despise  me  for  a  lovesick  girl. ' ' 

Suddenly  she  broke  down  and  began  to  cry, 
with  a  spasm  of  self  pity,  as  she  thought  what 
her  life  might  have  been,  and  how  she  had  suf- 
fered. Batterman  took  her  gently  and  put  her 
into  a  chair,  and  then  he  went  to  a  table  and 
brought  her  a  glass  of  water. 

"  Do  not  cry,"  he  said,  as  if  he  were  comfort- 
ing a  child,  and  put  his  hand  gently  on  the  side 
of  her  head.  "  Who  told  you  that?  "  he  asked. 

"My  stepmother,"  Alice  answered.  "But, 
oh,  Chris,  I  ought  to  have  known  ! ' ' 


HER  LADYSHIP.  243 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "You  ought  to  have 
known." 

He  was  wondering  if  there  was  another  man 
who  could  have  had  the  strength  to  hear  that 
the  woman  he  had  loved  all  his  life  loved  him, 
had  always  loved  him,  and  yet  could  go  and  leave 
her  thus.  And  yet  he  could  not  think  of  doing 
anything  else.  She  must  be  protected.  Batter- 
man  belonged  to  a  class  of  men  that  is  a  great 
deal  more  numerous  in  all  parts  of  the  world 
than  most  people  who  write  novels  would  have 
us  think,  and  so  common  in  America  that  such 
men  may  be  said  to  be  merely  average,  whose 
first  idea  of  love  is  protection.  She  must  be  pro- 
tected from  the  brutalities  of  her  husband  ;  and 
above  all,  the  miserable  suspicion  which  he  had 
voiced  must  be  killed  at  once. 

"Alice,  listen  to  me,"  he  said  at  last.  "I 
must  go  away,  but  I  shall  stay  here  in  Bngland. 
I  shall  be  where  you  can  always  reach  me — 
always.  If  there  comes  a  time  when  I  can  do 
anything  for  you,  promise  me  that  you  will  allow 
no  false  delicacy  to  stand  in  the  way.  It  is  best 
that  you  should  stay  here  under  L,urgan's  roof 
for  the  present.  In  a  little  while  you  may  be 
able  to  go  away,  and  to  stay  away." 

Alice  put  out  her  hand  and  held  his. 

"  Oh,  Chris,"  she  said,  "  you  will  not  go  away 
and  leave  me?  I  could  let  you  go  when  " — she 


244  HER  LADYSHIP. 

caught  her  breath — "  when  I  thought  3'ou  did 
not  care,  but  I  cannot  let  you  go  now.  You  are 
all  I  have  in  the  world.  You  are  all  I  have.  I 
cannot  let  you  go  !  "  she  repeated. 

' '  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  Batterman 
asked,  and  his  voice  was  not  steady. 

"  That  awful  man  will  kill  me.  He  frightens 
me.  I  have  lived — you  do  not  know  how  I  have 
lived,"  she  said.  It  was  as  if  the  years  of  re- 
straint had  broken  down  all  this  false  strength 
of  hers  of  which  she  had  been  so  sure  and  so 
proud.  In  her  heart  and  in  her  fancy  she  had 
lived  with  Chris  by  her  side.  She  had  done 
those  things  for  which  she  felt  sure  he  would 
admire  her  ;  but  now  that  he  was  here,  now  that 
he  loved  her,  her  instinct  taught  her  that  he  was 
the  strong  bulwark  between  her  and  everything 
which  could  hurt  her.  She  was  a  child  again. 
Chris  could  take  care  of  her. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  saying  that  you  are 
afraid  of  him,  that  he  will  kill  you  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  it  has  been  easy  enough  to  live 
in  this  house — with  Lord  Lurgan — all  these 
years.  He  has  disliked  me  as  much  as  I  have 
disliked  him,  but  tonight  he  told  me  that — he 
begged  me  to  come  back  to  him.  It  was  when  I 
refused  that  he  said — what  he  did.  Oh,  Chris, 
you  must  not  leave  me  here  !  Take  me  with 
you.  I  would  be  safe  with  you  anywhere.  You 


HER   LADYSHIP.  245 

love  me.  You  would  take  care  of  me.  I  am  so 
tired!" 

"You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying," 
Batterman  said,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "  You 
cannot  know.  But  you  shall  not  stay  here." 

"  But  where  is  there  anybody  on  earth,  except 
you,  who  cares  ?  These  women  I  live  among? 
What  am  I  to  them  ?  My  stepmother  parted  us. 

She  took  you  from  me "  Alice  stopped,  and 

put  her  hands  up  to  her  head.  "  Do  not  listen 
to  me,  Chris,"  she  said.  "  It  turns  my  brain.  I 
have  always  loved  you  so.  I  have  had  nothing 
else  in  my  life  except  the  thought  of  you,  and 
uow  that  I  know  that  it  has  been  the  same  to 
you,  that  you  have  always  cared,  nothing  else 
seems  of  any  consequence.  What  can  be  of  so 
much  consequence?  Haven't  we  a  right  to  our 
own  lives  ?  They  were  taken  away  from  us. 
Haven't  we  a  right  to  take  them  back  ?  Whom 
would  it  hurt  ?  ' ' 

"  It  would  hurt  you,"  Batterman  said.  "  If  I 
were  to  take  you  away  with  me,  neither  of  us 
would  be  happy.  You  would  be  miserable  be- 
cause I  had  allowed  you,  in  a  moment  of  excite- 
ment, to  give  your  good  name  to  the  tongues  of 
the  world.  I-should  be  miserable  because  you 
were,  and  because  you  would  have  lost  some- 
thing. I  could  never  give  you  back.  My  love 
would  be  a  poor  thing  if  it  could  not  take  care  of 


246  HER   LADYSHIP. 

you  now.  I  am  afraid  it  was  a  poor  thiug  that 
it  was  not  strong  enough  in  the  beginning.  But 
now  that  we  understand  each  other,  now  that  I 
can  speak  to  you  frankly,  and  have  -you  know 
that  I  have  but  one  object  in  my  life,  I  shall  try 
to  make  another  thing  of  your  life.  It  was  all 
a  mistake,  and  we  should  be  children  if  we 
did  not  realize  that  such  mistakes  are  for  all  time. 
Nothing  can  ever  wipe  them  out." 

"  No,"  Alice  said  dully.  "  Nothing  could 
ever  wipe  this  one  out.  To  you  I  shall  always 
be  Lurgan's  wife." 

"  It  is  enough  for  me  to  know  that  I  must  not 
think  of  the  possibility  of  your  ever  being 
mine,"  he  answered.  "  But,  Alice,  look  at 
me."  He  had  lifted  her  up,  so  that  they  stood 
facing  each  other  again.  "All  my  life  long  I 
shall  live  only  for  you,  and  all  that  I  am,  and  all 
that  I  have,  is  yours.  I  make  a  sacrifice  which 
you  cannot  understand  in  leaving  you  here.  But 
here  you  must  stay,  for  the  present,  at  least.  I 
am  going  now.  I  shall  not  see  you  again  until 
you  send  for  me.  But  I  want  you  to  tell  me  that 
you  know  that  you  are  not  alone,  that  there  is 
one  heart  that  is  always  yours." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  said,  but  her  hands  hung 
limp  in  his.  He  put  them  down  gently,  and 
turned  and  left  her,  while  she  sat  down  again  and 
put  her  face  in  her  arm. 


XXVII. 

TT  seemed  to  Alice,  in  those  next  days,  that 
she  lived  in  a  world  of  unreality.  Batter- 
man  had  been  "suddenly  called"  to  London, 
and  he  had  left  her  a  note  with  his  London 
address  at  the  top,  and  a  few  words  of  good  by. 
That  was  all.  Alice  did  not  even  feel  the 
expected  remorse  at  having  asked  Batterman  to 
take  her  away  with  him.  It  was  all  right ;  Chris 
understood.  A  realization  of  the  change  which 
had  come  to  her  dimmed  everything,  even  in  the 
atmosphere  which  was  all  over  the  house,  an 
atmosphere  made  up  of  suspicion,  of  cynical 
amusement,  and  here  and  there  of  a  shocked 
fear  of  what  might  be  coming.  For  Lurgan 
had  disappointed  his  wife's  fears,  and  had  not 
repeated  his  demonstration  of  affection,  but  was 
devoting  himself  to  Mrs.  Henderson  in  a  way 
which  passed  far  beyond  the  ordinary  bounds  of 
good  breeding,  and  disregarded  the  rather  lax 
social  laws  which  govern  a  flirtation  between  a 
married  man  and  a  married  woman,  even  in  the 
most  free  and  easy  set  in  Kugli  1i  society.  Lady 
Lurgan  the  elder  had  evidently  been  apprised  of 
247 


248  HER  LADYSHIP. 

some  of  the  country  talk,  for  one  morning  she 
appeared  in  her  son's  room,  and  the  echoes  of 
that  interview  were  a  tradition  in  the  servants' 
hall  for  months,  carried  there  by  I^urgan's  man. 

But  Alice  was  living  her  own  life,  oblivious  to 
everything.  This  gentle  girl,  whose  mind  and 
spirit  had  been  formed  for  all  that  is  good  and 
beautiful,  and  whose  natural  expression  to  the 
world  was  all  that  was  womanly,  had  been  so 
distorted,  against  her  own  will,  that  she  was 
almost  unconscious  of  fine  distinctions,  was 
losing  her  intuitions.  She  went  along  in  a  daze 
of  her  own  thoughts.  The  house  party  dis- 
persed, and  the  guests  went  their  separate  ways, 
leaving  her  to  her  dreams.  lyUrgan  went  up  to 
town  in  the  same  train  with  Mrs.  Henderson,  her 
maid,  and  an  intimate  friend.  Mr.  Henderson 
was,  as  usual,  away  in  some  other  part  of  the 
world. 

The  sudden  beauty,  the  animation,  which  had 
been  Alice's  for  such  a  little  while,  faded  again, 
and  she  was  like  an  alabaster  lamp  whose  flame 
has  gone  out.  Constance  and  her  mother  went 
on  to  some  friends  whom  they  had  made,  but  not 
before  Mrs.  Sanderson  had  had  an  interview  with 
Alice.  She  came  to  her  one  afternoon  in  the 
hour  between  tea  time  and  dinner  dressing.  As 
she  passed  through  the  door,  Alice  could  not 
help  but  admire  the  air  of  strength  and  sweet- 


HER   LADYSHIP.  249 

ness  which  seemed  to  surround  her  as  a  garment. 
She  had  taken  off  the  elaborateafternoondiess — 
Mrs.  Sanderson  never  put  so  stupid  a  thing  as  a 
tea  gown  upon  her  fine  figure — and  was  in  the 
•white  skirt  and  dressing  sack  of  American  un- 
dress. Her  lineless,  calm  face  was  to  Alice  like 
a  beautiful  mask.  It  expressed  everything  that 
was  good  and  sweet  and  loving ;  and  the  younger 
woman  looked  at  it  with  wonder.  It  seemed  to 
contradict  everything  that  she  had  been  told  con- 
cerning the  face  as  a  reflex  of  the  mind.  And 
then,  as  her  stepmother  picked  up  the  bottles  on 
her  toilet  table,  and  selected  one  to  hold  in  her 
hand  and  dabble  with  the  contents  while  she 
talked,  Alice  let  her  thoughts  run  along  quite 
irrespective  of  the  light  talk,  in  a  way  her  soli- 
tary heart  had  taught  her  in  these  years. 

She  wondered  if  everybody  were  not  equally 
artificial.  She  stole  a  look  at  her  own  face  in  a 
mirror  opposite,  and  she  saw  its  pale,  quiet  dig- 
nity, its  clear  eyed  innocence,  and  she  suddenly 
had  a  disgusted  realization  that  she  belonged  to 
the  class  of  women  with  what  is  vaguely  named 
a  "  history."  She  was  a  woman  married  to  one 
man  and  in  love  with  another  ;  the  sort  of  woman 
she  had  always  supposed  to  exist  only  in  a  certain 
class  of  French  novel.  Probably  everybody  was 
only  a  whited  sepulchre — even  Chris  !  And  her 
heart  contracted  as  she  thought  it,  and  then  in- 


250  HER  LADYSHIP. 

dignantly  throw  the  idea  away.  At  least  there 
was  no  fault  in  Chris.  He  kept  sure  her  faith  in 
the  world.  And  yet  she  had  been  made  to 
doubt  him  once,  and  her  heart  hardened  toward 
her  stepmother. 

"Alice,"  Mrs.  Sanderson  said  seriously, 
"  perhaps  I  should  not  speak  of  it,  but  you  need 
the  advice  of  a  woman  of  experience. ' ' 

' '  Do  I  ?  "   was  the  indifferent  reply. 

Mrs.  Sanderson  hesitated.  She  did  not  want 
to  antagonize  Alice,  and  yet  she  felt  that  by 
neglecting  to  speak  she  was  running  a  risk  of 
greater  jeopardy  than  this. 

"Yes,  you  do.  You  are  treating  your  hus- 
band very  badly.  You  are  being  a  bad  wife  to 
him.  You  are  breaking  the  sacredest  vows  a 
woman  can  make.  You  are  breaking  up  your 
home  and  driving  your  husband  to  courses  which 
are  going  to  ruin  him  and  you." 

"I  have  nothing- to  do  with  Lord  I/urgan's 
affairs.  What  he  does  is  of  no  consequence  to 
me." 

' '  It  must  be  of  consequence  to  you.  You  are 
his  wife.  Nothing  can  alter  that.  You  are  his 
wife.  What  makes  or  mars  his  life  makes  or 
mars  yours.  Do  not  think  that  I  am  coming  to 
you  except  as  a  last  resort.  I  went  to  him,  I 
told  him  that  his  conduct  was  becoming  a  scan- 
dal. He  told  me  that  you  had  pushed  him  out 


HER  LADYSHIP.  251 

of  your  life,  that  lie  had  offered  you  love  and  de- 
votion, had  begged  you  to  come  back  to  him,  and 
had  offered  to  throw  everything  else " 

' '  What  do  you  mean — what  does  he  mean  by 
everything  else  ?  ' ' 

"  Ah — er — everything  except  his  devotion  and 
consideration  for  you  ;  that  he  told  you  he  loved 
you,  that  he  said  everything  a  man  could  say  to 
his  wife  under  such  circumstances,  and  that  you 
repulsed  him.  He  has  grown  reckless.  It  is 
your  duty  to  save  him." 

Alice  looked  out  of  the  window  while  her  step- 
mother talked,  and  the  red  came  up  on  the  tops 
of  her  cheeks  in  a  feverish  streak,  but  her  hands 
were  passive  and  idle  in  her  lap.  Suddenly  she 
turned,  and  to  Mrs.  Sanderson's  amazement 
laughed.  It  was  not  a  particularly  joyous  laugh, 
and  it  was  one  which  went  so  ill  with  the  face  and 
the  character  of  the  girl  she  knew  that  Mrs. 
Sanderson  started. 

' '  I  suppose  Lord  Lurgan  did  say  everything  a 
man  could  say  under  the  circumstances,  but  the 
circumstances  are  not  just  as  they  should  be. 
You  say  it  is  my  duty  to  take  him  back  as  my 
husband  because  he  has  done  me  the  honor — for 
the  moment — of  giving  me  the  same  sort  of 
affection  he  has  given  to  perhaps  a  dozen  other 
women  in  the  course  of  his  life.  Do  you  consider 
it  my  duty  to  accept  that  ?  ' ' 


252  HER  LADYSHIP. 

' '  How  can  you  place  yourself  in  such  a 
class  ? ' '  Mrs.  Sanderson  said  in  a  sincerely 
shocked  and  disgusted  tone. 

"  Because  I  should  belong  there  if  I  listened 
to  him." 

' '  He  is  your  husband. ' ' 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  growing  very  heterodox, 
but  I  cannot  see  how  a  marriage  ceremony 
changes  the  relation  of  two  souls  to  each  other." 
She  waved  her  hand  as  she  went  on,  for  Mrs. 
Sanderson's  face  looked  frightened.  "You 
need  not  be  afraid  of  anything  I  am  going  to  do. 
It  is  only  what  I  am  not  going  to  do.  I  am  not 
going  to  degrade  myself — my  own  mind  and 
heart  and  soul — to  save  the  reputation — or  even 
the  soul,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible — of  a 
man  I  despise.  He  may  be  my  husband.  I  am 
not  the  only  one  bound  by  ties.  He  broke  the 
cords  that  bound  us.  Could  I  stay  bound  while 
he  went  free  ?  Suppose  it  had  been  the  other 
way.  Suppose  it  had  been  I  who  had  insulted 
him,  would  anybody  have  thought  that  it  was 
his  duty  to  stand  and  wait  for  me  to  come  back 
to  him,  to  be  pardoned  and  forgiven  and  loved, 
and  my  reputation  saved  ?  Suppose  that  I  had 
said,  '  I  love  you — I  will  throw  over  everybody 
else  if  you  will  take  me  back.'  What  would 
you  have  thought  of  him  if  he  had  done  it  ?  " 

' '  You  are  foolish.     You  have  been  listening 


IIKR   LADYSHIP.  253 

to  the  insane  cry  of  those  self  styled  reformers 
who  want  to  turn  the  social  world  upside  down. 
There  can't  be  the  same  law  for  men  and  for 
women." 

' '  I  am  not  thinking  of  any  law  except  that  of 
my  own  heart.  I  will  not  degrade  myself  by 
association  with  such  a  man  as  Lord  L,urgan. ' ' 

"  Why  did  you  marry  him,  then  ?  " 

Alice's  breath  came  in  short  gasps.  "  Because 
you  were  a  wicked  woman  and  told  me  lies. 
Because,  for  some  reason  which  I  cannot  fathom, 
you  deceived  me  and  made  me  believe  that  the 
man  I  loved  did  not  love  me.  Because  you 
played  upon  the  hysterical  ideas  of  a  child  until 
I  was  forced  into  a  marriage  I  did  not  under- 
stand. And  may  Heaven  forgive  you,  for  I 
never  will  ! ' ' 

"  Alice  !  "  Mrs.  Sanderson  was  standing  and 
trembling  violently,  but  her  calmness  of  tone 
was  as  usual.  ' '  You  do  not  know  what  you  are 
saying.  Heaven  is  my  witness  that  I  said  to 
you  what  I  would  have  said  to  my  own  daughter 
under  the  same  circumstances." 

"That  is  doubtless  true,  but  your  own 
daughter  would  better  have  understood  your 
character." 

"  I  take  these  insults,  because  I  do  not  believe 
that  you  know  what  you  are  saying.  You  are 
not  yourself.  These  theories  of  life  which  are 


254  HER   LADYSHIP. 

the  result  of  the  vulgar  middle  class  imaginings 
of  some  women  in  this  country,  do  not  properly 
belong  to  you.  I  beg  of  you,  Alice,  to  see  the 
rector. ' ' 

' '  You  are  mistaken.  These  ideas,  as  you  call 
them,  I  have  never  heard.  I  am  sorry  if  other 
women  have  them,  for  they  are  only  born  of 
experience.  There  is  no  use  in  your  staying  any 
longer. ' ' 

She  rose  abruptly,  and  started  toward  the 
door,  as  if  to  leave  the  room,  but  Celeste  came 
in  with  a  letter  in  her  hand,  and  a  frightened 
look  in  her  face.  It  was  a  look  of  apology,  too, 
and  she  held  the  very  neat  square  envelope 
between  her  thumb  and  forefinger  as  if  it  might 
contaminate  her. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  Alice  asked  patiently. 

"  It  is  a  letter,  my  lady.  I  do  not  know  who 
sent  it,"  she  said,  holding  it  all  the  time  in  a  way 
that  belied  her  words.  ' '  The  man  brought  it 
up  from  the  inn  in  the  village,  and  he  is  waiting 
for  an  answer. ' ' 

As  she  gave  the  note  to  Alice  she  was  so  over- 
come with  acute  curiosity  that  it  seemed  to  quiver 
in  her  very  finger  tips,  and  arrested  Mrs.  Sander- 
son's attention.  But  Alice  took  the  letter  care- 
lessly, and,  walking  to  her  desk,  sat  down  before 
it,  with  her  back  to  her  stepmother,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  nothing  left  for  the  older  lady  but 


HER  LADYSHIP.  255 

to  walk  out,  closing  the  door  softly  behind  her. 
She  walked  to  Constance's  room  and  told  her  to 
pack  up  at  once,  so  that  they  might  catch  the 
evening  train  to  London.  She  was  suffering  from 
toothache,  she  said,  and  must  see  a  dentist  at 
once. 

Alice  read  the  note  over  half  a  dozen  times, 
her  face  pale  and  then  crimson.  There  were 
only  a  few  lines  of  it. 

"  Madam,"  it  read,  "  I  am  here  at  the  inn  in 
the  village,  and  I  have  something  of  the  greatest 
importance  to  tell  you.  I  will  not  write  it  on 
paper,  and  I  know  I  cannot  come  to  your  house. 
I  beg  you,  as  you  value  your  own  happiness,  to 
come  to  the  kiosk  by  the  copper  beeches  in  the 
park,  at  nine  this  evening — Mary  Welles." 

At  first  Alice  had  thrown  it  from  her  impa- 
tiently. She  felt  that  she  had  contaminated 
herself  indeed  when  this  woman  would  dare  to 
ask  for  a  meeting  ;  and  then  some  instinct  told 
her  to  go.  Mrs.  Welles  probably  wanted  money. 
Well,  she  felt  contemptuous  enough,  now,  to  give 
her  some.  She  scribbled  ' '  Yes  ' '  on  the  back  of 
the  letter,  sealed  it  in  a  new  envelope,  and  sent  it 
away. 

Celeste  showed  it  to  the  butler  as  she  passed 
him,  and  said  exultantly,  "  Her  ladyship  knows 
how  to  treat  her  sort.  She  has  sent  the  whole 
thing  back." 


256  HER   LADYSHIP. 

Mrs.  Sanderson  and  Constance  said  their  good 
bys. 

"  I  am  going  to  make  you  go  to  the  Continent 
with  us,  Alice,"  Constance  said  with  fondness, 
' '  for  you  are  looking  as  miserable  as  possible. 
You  look  as  cross  as  all  outdoors.  Mother  has 
taken  a  fancy  to  have  toothache  and  go  up  to 
town.  It  is  ridiculous  that  you  do  not  come 
with  us,  instead  of  mooning  about  here  alone." 

' '  I  am  not  lonely. ' ' 

Constance  looked  back  at  her  as  she  stood  on 
the  steps  of  the  terrace,  and  even  as  she  looked, 
and  before  the  carriage  wheels  had  made  a  dozen 
revolutions,  she  saw  her  sister  turn. 

' '  Alice  is  queer.  She  cares  nothing  for  any- 
body. It  seems  to  me  that  when  I  was  a  little 
girl  she  was  affectionate  and  soft  hearted.  Now 
she  is  like  a  hard,  white  stone." 

' '  That  is  exactly  what  she  is.  It  must  be  her 
mother's  blood.  Her  father  was  soft  hearted 
enough  ;  "  and  then  they  talked  of  other  things. 

All  the  afternoon  Alice  wandered  about,  sorry 
that  she  had  promised  Mrs.  Welles  that  she 
would  meet  her,  disliking  herself  that  such  a 
circumstance  could  arise  in  her  life.  She  had 
actually  no  idea  what  could  have  brought  this 
woman  to  the  Chase.  The  idea  that  she  wanted 
to  make  herself  disagreeable,  that  she  had  stories 
to  tell,  never  entered  Alice's  mind. 


HER  LADYSHIP.  257 

The  long  dinner  was  duller  than  usual  to- 
night. There  were  only  I^ady  Lurgan  the  elder 
and  Alice.  Everybody  else  had  gone.  The  late 
twilight  left  it  fairly  light  at  half  past  eight 
when  at  last  it  was  possible  to  walk  out  into  the 
park.  As  she  started  I,ady  I/urgan  spoke  to 
her.  There  were  lines  about  the  haughty  face 
which  spoke  of  hours  when  ^the  strong  coun- 
tenance was  relaxed  into  an  expression  the 
proud  woman  would  not  have  cared  to  let  the 
world  see. 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you  a  moment, 
now  that  we  are  alone,"  she  said.  "  My  son's 
life  has  been  ruined  by  his  marriage  with  you. 
You  are  not  a  child  now.  You  are  a  woman, 
and  a  woman  who  pretends  to  have  a  sense  of 
duty.  If  for  no  other  reason ,  can  you  not  try  to 
restore  some  of  the  wreck  that  you  have  made  ? 
The  fate  of  this  house  depends  upon  you." 

Alice  hesitated,  and  then  she  said  coldly  :  "  If 
you  had  thought  that  earlier,  we  might  all  have 
been  happier.  But  at  no  time  would  it  have 
been  true.  I  was  wrong  to  marry  your  son,  but 
had  I  been  allowed  I  would  have  been  a  good 
wife  to  him.  You  did  not  allow  me.  I  can  do 
nothing  now.  But  " — she  turned  with  some 
curiosity — "  why  do  you  tell  me  this  at  this  mo- 
ment ?  In  what  is  the  situation  different  from 
what  it  has  been?" 


258  HER  LADYSHIP. 

1 '  You  are  driving  Algernon  to  extremes.  You 
are  causing  him  to  ruin  himself,  to  make  a 
scandal." 

' '  You  mean  that  he  is  making  a  scandal,  and 
that  you  wish  me  to  do  what  I  can  to  save  him 
from  its  consequences.  When  he  is  making 
himself  notorious  before  the  world  is  the  time 
when  I  am  expected  to  call  him  to  me  !  " 

Alice  spoke  with  infinite  disdain,  and  went  out 
of  the  door.  She  did  not  know  the  short  way  to 
the  kiosk,  and  it  was  late  before  she  arrived 
there.  She  saw,  seated  in  the  dimness  inside,  a 
figure  which  arose  as  she  came  near.  She  recog- 
nized Mrs.  Welles  at  once,  although  she  had 
never  seen  her  since  that  day  at  the  station.  She 
was  stouter  now,  just  as  well  dressed,  and  with 
a  certain  look  of  tranquility  which  probably  no 
life  she  might  live  would  ever  entirely  destroy. 

"lam  very  glad  that  you  came,"  she  said, 
without  any  greeting  or  any  nervousness  of 
manner.  "  I  have  something  to  tell  you  which 
I  think  you  should  know.  I  know  that  you  do 
not  care  for  your  husband,  so  that  it  will  be  no 
particular  shock  to  you  except  that  it  may  hurt 
your  pride.  It  is  your  pride  that  I  am  relying 
on  to  save  him." 

' '  Why  should  you  care  to  save  him  from  any- 
thing ?" 

"  Well,  I  have  known  him  since  he  was  a  boy, 


HER  LADYSHIP.  259 

and  I  suppose  I  am  still  fond  of  him  in  a  way, 
although  he  has  treated  me  badly  enough.  Per- 
haps, if  I  were  to  be  strictly  honest  in  the  mat- 
ter, I  should  say  that,  as  he  didn't  quite  throw 
himself  away  for  me,  I  can't  bear  to  see  him  do 
it  for  another  woman.  There  may  be  something 
in  that.  At  any  rate,  he  has  made  all  his  arrange- 
ments to  leave  London  tomorrow  with  that  Mrs. 
Henderson.  They  have  been  on  the  point  of 
going  several  times,  I  understand,  but  it  hasn't 
come  off.  Perhaps  you  have  prevented  it.  I 
came  to  tell  you  now,  so  that  you  could  prevent 
it  in  this  case." 

' '  I  can  do  nothing. ' ' 

"  I  suspect  that  means  that  you  don't  care  to 
do  any  thing.  You  made  him  leave  me.  Retreated 
me  so  badly  after  that  quarrel  he  had  with  you 
that  I  had  to  give  him  up. ' '  Mrs.  Welles  spoke 
in  a  quiet  tone,  as  if  such  an  interview  were  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  ' '  And  I  had 
known  him  much  longer  than  you,  and  had  had 
much  more  influence  over  him.  He  promised 
me  that  he  would  never  marry,  and  I  was  fool 
enough  to  believe  him.  I  never  expected  him  to 
marry  me.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  should  have 
been  happy  if  he  had.  It  would  have  spoiled 
his  life.  He  liked  going  about  and  meeting 
people,  and  he  would  have  been  miserable  when 
he  couldn't  do  it  any  more.  I  used  to  enjoy 


260  HER  LADYSHIP. 

seeing  his  name  in  the  papers."  She  laughed  a 
little  in  a  rather  comfortable  sort  of  way.  ' '  I 
believe  I  came  to  feel  a  sort  of  motherly  feeling 
for  him.  Of  course  I  hated  you,  but  there  is 
nothing  wrong  with  you  except  that  I  can  see 
that  you  are  cold  natured.  You  are  not  very 
forgiving.  After  we  parted,  I  hoped  he  would 
make  it  up  with  you,  and  you'll  excuse  the  advice 
of  a  woman  who  knows  Lurgan  through  and 
through  when  I  tell  you  that  you  are  going 
the  right  way  to  drive  him  to  the  bad.  Unless 
something  is  done  at  once  he  has  already  gone 
there." 

"  How  dare  you  come  here  and  talk  like  this 
to  me  ?  ' '  Alice  asked. 

Mrs.  Welles  drew  her  cloak  about  her  throat 
with  a  jerk,  and  started  to  go. 

' '  I  dare  because  I  want  you  to  save  Lurgan 
from  making  a  fool  of  himself.  I  know  you  are 
not  the  sort  that  wants  scandals  and  divorce  in 
the  family,  and  wants  to  spoil  the  chances  of 
your  sister.  I  supposed  you  were  the  sort  that 
would  try  to  smooth  things  over,  and  I  fancy, 
after  all,  that  you  will."  She  turned  after  she 
had  taken  some  steps  away.  "  This  is  straight, 
because  Lurgan's  man  came  and  told  me.  He 
thought  I  might  stop  it  ;  "  and  then  she  went  on, 
leaving  Alice  with  just  one  word  ringing  in  her 
ears,  and  that  word  was  divorce  ! 


XXVIII. 

next  morning,  at  eleven  o'clock,  Batter- 
man  strode  up  and  down  the  floor  of  the 
parlor  which  Alice  had  taken  at  one  of  the  great 
Condon  hotels. 

Alice  was  trembling  violently,  as  you  could  see 
whenever  she  lifted  her  hands  for  an  instant  ; 
but  she  had  been  speaking  in  a  rapid,  even  tone. 

"  Where  did  they  go  ?  "  Batterinan  asked. 

"I  do  not  know." 

"  Do  you  know  that  they  have  gone  ?  " 

"  I  know  only  what  she  told  me,  and  that  I<ord 
Lurgan  is  not  to  be  found.  I  sent  Celeste  to  see 
this  morning.  Tell  me,  Christopher,  what  must 
be  done  ?  ' ' 

Batterman  had  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"  I  am  going  after  them.  I  am  going  to  find 
some  way  to  stop  this  without  a  scandal." 

Alice  stood  before  him. 

' '  Why  should  you  stop  it  ?  It  makes  neither 
one  nor  the  other  any  better  that  they  are 
brought  back  and  visited  by  people.  Why  not 
let  them  go,  and — let  me  be  free  /  ' '  She  brought 
the  last  word  out  like  an  explosion,  and  then  as 
261 


262  HER   LADYSHIP. 

Batterman  still  looked  square  in  her  eyes,  they 
faltered  and  she  sat  down. 

"  And  your  name  and  your  life  dragged  in  the 
dust  of  two  continents  !  Not  if  I  can  help  it. 
There  shall  be  some  sort  of  a  separation,  but  the 
divorce  court  is  not  for  women  like  you.  We 
have  to  bear  the  consequences  of  our  mistakes. 
He  shall  bear  some  of  the  consequences  of  his ; 
but  if  I  can  arrange  this  without  scandal,  I  shall 
do  it." 

But  finding  Lurgan  and  Mrs.  Henderson  was 
not  so  easy  a  task.  There  were  not  many  people 
in  London  just  now,  and  they  had  been  seen 
nowhere.  Two  days  can  slip  by  very  readily 
without  two  people  being  missed,  at  least  two 
people  who  are  in  the  habit  of  going  about  a 
great  deal.  At  last  Batterman  discovered  that 
they  were  known  to  have  crossed  over  to  France. 
As  the  little  boat  rushed  through  the  blue  water 
of  the  channel,  he  drew  his  coat  up  about  his 
ears,  turned  his  back  to  the  wind,  and  faced 
Lurgan's  man. 

The  man  tipped  his  hat  respectfully  and 
walked  away,  but  not  before  Batterman  saw  that 
he  wore  a  look  of  grave  anxiety.  Chris  went 
all  through  the  boat  in  the  hope  that  he  might 
find  Lurgan  here,  but  the  servant  was  evidently 
alone,  although  he  had  several  handsome  pieces 
of  luggage  which  he  was  carrying  with  him. 


HER  IvADYSHIP.  263 

He  made  a  rush  for  the  Paris  train  as  soon  as  the 
boat  landed,  and  Battermau  followed.  Again, 
when  they  reached  Paris,  Batterman  left  his 
trunks,  as  soon  as  the  man  could  get  his  boxes 
labeled,  and  went  out  to  see  them  put  into  a 
fiacre. 

It  was  early  evening,  and  Batterman,  in 
another  fiacre,  openly  followed.  They  were 
almost  in  Passy  when  the  cab  ahead  stopped. 
The  servant  sprang  out,  and  motioned  for  Batter- 
man's  driver  to  stop.  Pie  came  close  and  spoke 
rapidly. 

"  Before  Heaven,  I  hope  you  are  following 
me,  Mr.  Batterman,"  he  said.  "  I  want  you  to 
tell  me  what  to  do.  His  lordship,  that  I've  been 
with  since  he  was  a  boy,  discharged  me  a  few 
days  ago,  and  told  me  never  to  come  near  him 
again  ;  but  now  I  get  a  telegram  to  come  to  this 
address  in  Paris,  that  he  is  very  ill,  sir.  You 
know  all  about  the  trouble,  sir,  or  you  wouldn't 
be  here.  I  was  discharged  for  telling  Mrs. 
Welles.  She  tried  to  keep  his  lordship  from 
going,  and  when  she  couldn't  she  said  as  how 
she  was  going  to  her  ladyship,  and  seeing  you  I 
know  she  must  have,  sir.  What  am  I  to  do,  sir  ?  " 

"  My  advice  is  to  get  to  this  address  as 
quickly  as  possible,  and  I  will  follow  you." 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  the  man  climbed  into  his 
fiacre  again  and  went  on.  It  was  a  walled  garden 


264  HER  LADYSHIP. 

gate  at  which  they  finally  stopped,  and  Batter- 
nian  drove  in  behind  the  servant,  who  was  evi- 
dently expected.  The  house  was  one  of  the 
apartment  houses  of  this  neighborhood.  As 
they  entered  the  court  another  carriage  turned 
out,  and  the  unmistakable  face  of  a  physician 
looked  at  them  gravely  for  an  instant. 

The  two  men  went  np  together  in  the  eleva- 
tor, which  they  moved  themselves.  The  servant 
had  hesitated,  but  Batterman  had  pulled  him  in. 
As  the  jar  and  hitch  of  the  stoppage  came,  the 
curtained  door  was  violently  opened  in  their  faces, 
and  Mrs.  Henderson  started  back  with  a  little 
scream.  Batterman  was  by  her  in  an  instant, 
and  had  taken  her  by  the  arm.  She  had  her  hat 
and  veil  on,  and  was  evidently  dressing  for  travel- 
ing. When  she  saw  Batterman,  she  looked  at 
him  insolently  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  took 
the  pin  from  her  hat  and  threw  it  on  a  table. 

' '  If  you  know  it,  I  suppose  it  is  all  over  Con- 
don, and  I  may  as  well  stay,"  she  said. 

"Suppose  you  let  me  speak  to  you  for  a  few 
moments,"  Batterman  replied.  The  man  had 
disappeared. 

"  I  haven't  time  for  that.  Do  you  know  what 
is  happening  ?  Lord  I^urgan  is  dying  in  there." 
A  dry  sob  that  may  have  been  sorrow  or  nervous- 
ness was  in  her  throat.  ' '  I  was  ready  to  stay 
with  him,  to  meet  anything  with  him,  but  there 


HER  LADYSHIP.  265 

was  no  use  of  my  losing  him  and  everything 
else  beside.  I  thought  perhaps  people  did  not 
know — that  I  could  get  back  to  London,  and 
they  never  would  know.  It  is  pneumonia,  and 
the  doctors  say  it  is  hopeless.  There  is  one  of 
them  in  there  with  a  nurse  now.  He  is  being 
taken  care  of. ' ' 

' '  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  go 
back  to  lyondon,"  Batterman  said.  "Nobody 
except  one  or  two  people  who  will  not  talk — 
and  L,urgan's  wife — knows  that  you  are  here  with 
him.  It  would  be  best  that  you  skould  go.  I 
shall  send  for  Lurgan's  mother  if  he  is  dying, 
and  she  would  hardly  care  to  come  here  while 
you  remained." 

Batterman  did  not  care  to  make  his  words  soft. 
He  might  have  had  sympathy  for  her — few  men 
haven't  sympathy  for  a  woman  who  throws  away 
the  world  for  the  man  she  loves,  however  law- 
lessly—if he  had  found  her  by  Lurgan's  side ; 
but  this  effort  to  eat  her  cake  and  have  it  too,  her 
selfishness,  put  her  in  a  class  which  could  only 
be  utterly  despicable. 

Mrs.  Henderson  took  up  her  hat  and  pinned  it 
on  her  head  again. 

"I  am  going,  then,"  she  said,  and  without 
another  word  she  went  back  into  her  own  life,  to 
wait  dutifully  until  her  husband  came  home,  and 
to  be  the  favorite  of  other  seasons,  with  only  a 


266  HER  LADYSHIP. 

vague  remembrance  of  an  old  scandal  that  might 
have  been.  As  that  sufficed  to  keep  her  in  the 
minds  of  people,  it  was  rather  an  advantage  than 
otherwise. 

Batterman  waited  until  the  doctor  came  out, 
and  asked  if  Mrs.  Henderson's  story  was  true. 

"  He  cannot  live  forty  eight  hours.  He  knows 
he  is  dying,  but  he  wants  nobody  sent  for.  It 
isn't  pneumonia  that  is  killing  him,  but  a  com- 
plication of  things  brought  on  by  his  life. 
Pneumonia  is  only  the  herald  that  has  awakened 
the  other  enemies. ' ' 

"  He  is  an  only  child,"  Batterman  said,  "  and 
I  am  going  to  send  for  his  mother. ' ' 

Batterman  did  not  expect  I/urgan  to  know  that 
he  was  there,  but  an  hour  after  Lady  Lurgan's 
arrival  she  came  and  told  him  that  her  son 
wished  to  speak  to  him.  It  was  with  a  pity 
which  Alice  could  not  feel  because  she  was  not 
there  in  that  atmosphere  of  approaching  death, 
which  makes  even  a  condemned  murderer  a 
creature  to  be  tenderly  considered  for  a  little 
while,  that  Batterman  went  into  the  room  where 
Lurgau  lay.  He  was  fully  conscious,  but  he  was 
so  weak  that  it.  was  with  difficulty  that  he  spoke  ; 
and  yet  in  his  pale,  terrible  face  was  the  expres- 
sion which  belonged  to  his  least  pleasant 
moments.  Perhaps  it  was  the  bravery  of  his 
ancestors  showing  itself  in  this  way. 


HER    LADYSHIP.  267 

"  I  want  to  thank  you  for  straightening  this 
out  as  you  have,"  he  said,  "although  I  know 
that  it  is  not  exactly  on  my  account  that  you  did 
it  ;  and  Alice  will  thank  you  in  her  own  way." 
He  stopped,  and  but  for  the  fact  that  every 
breath  might  be  his  last  Batterman  would  have 
left  him.  "  She  will  get  what  she  wants.  She 
is  a  countess,  although  I  don't  believe  she  cares 
much  for  that.  And  the  money — what  there  is 
of  it — goes  back  to  her  at  my  death."  His  face 
contracted  as  he  said  the  last  word.  He  didn't 
want  to  die.  "You'll  find  her  a  cold,  hard 
woman,  Batterman.  I  suppose  all  your  Ameri- 
can women  are  alike.  You  have  spoiled  them. 
They  don't  know  how  to  forgive  a  man  when  the 
time  conies.  But  you  won't  need  forgiveness, 
perhaps. ' ' 

"This  is  unnecessary,"  Batterman  said 
quietly. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but  I  have  generally  done  the 
unnecessary  thing.  If  I  hadn't  run  away  with 
Flo  Henderson  I  shouldn't  be  here,  and  she 
evidently  found  that  unnecessary,  because  she 
has  gone,  the}'  tell  me,  without  a  good  by.  You 
have  a  proverb,  haven't  you.  '  Come  easy,  go 
easy;'"  and  he  gave  a  twist  to  his  features 
which  might  have  been  a  smile. 

Batterman  felt  sick,  it  was  all  so  horrible  ; 
and  the  sight  of  that  face,  the  sound  of  that 


268  HKR   LADYSHIP. 

voice,  were  iuhis  brain,  coming  back  to  him  for 
years. 

' '  I  have  been  all  wrong,  of  course,  but  I  have 
lived  pretty  much  according  to  my  nature.     I 

should  have  rubbed  along  somehow,  if "    He 

stopped  again.  "Batterman,"  he  said,  "the 
mistake  and  the  badness  weren't  all  on  my  side. 
They  oughtn't  to  have  married  Alice  to  me.  I 
couldn't  understand  her,  and  she  couldn't  under- 
stand me.  She's  a  saint,  but  she  didn't  belong 
in  my  life.  And  I've  a  suspicion  that  she 

mightn't  have  been  so  stony  if ' '    He  stopped 

again.  "You  have  my  blessing,"  he  added 
drowsily. 

Batterman  called  the  nurse,  and  went  away,  to 
come  back  in  two  hours  and  hear  that  I/urgan 
was  dead.  He  and  Alice,  after  conventionalities 
of  mourning  were  over,  would  be  as  free  to 
marry  each  other  as  they  had  been  that  October 
afternoon  only  a  few  short  years  ago.  He  had 
hesitated  to  ask  her  to  do  so,  that  she  might 
have  a  little  more  life.  Now,  they  had  both  had 
so  much  that  the  boy  and  girl  of  that  time  were 
forever  dead,  and  there  were  only  a  strong  man 
and  a  sober  woman  who  looked  first  at  the  dark 
side  of  life. 

THE   END. 


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